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ccastiel-l · 11 days ago

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One More Time

A/N: I have been in my feels so enjoy some sad smut Toxic!Logan X F!Reader Warnings: SMUT! some angst. Unprotected P in V. Bodily fluid. Rough creampie. Summary: You break up with Logan, exhausted from the harsh way he treats you, but he wants one last thing.

He doesn't even know what sets you off this time. He probably did something shitty again, no surprise. But you were through; standing before him with that sad look on your face that made his insides twist.

You had always told him you'd never leave him; you knew of his past, the memories that tortured him. He was difficult, but you stuck by him because you knew he was a good man.

But...he had taken your love for granted. He got so used to getting away with being an asshole, always earning forgiveness somehow, and a part of him enjoyed having someone so devoted to him. He knew what would get a reaction out of you and he relished in the toxicity. And every time you forgave him, chalked it up to 'he's just in an episode, i'll help him'. How naive were you.

But now you were through, you were done. He had pushed you over the edge this time, playing with your pretty little heart and you were finally sick of being miserable; no matter how much you loved him.

"I hate my life," you said, standing in the kitchen. He stood before you, leaning against the counter with a whiskey glass in hand. His heart clenched and he turns to you slowly, taking a sip before setting the glass down with a thud.

"You hate your life," He repeated your words and then his voice broke softly, "with me."

All you could do was cry, tears spilling over as all the stress you had came pouring out. Being Logan's girlfriend was a full time job, no matter if his pain was genuine you were always stoic. For him.

Logan couldn't handle seeing you cry, he never could. It broke him more than anything else. He wanted to grab you, hold you, fix it, but he knows better than to touch you right now.

"You hate your life. With me." He repeats again, each word cutting deeper into both of your hearts.

A sob rips from your throat and you cover your mouth with your hand, trying to silence yourself like you do every time you cry. You never wanted to be weak in front of him, because everything was supposed to be about him. It's about Logan. Be there for Logan. Be strong. For. Logan.

Logan's heart is breaking, watching you sob, your body shaking softly with each tear. He can see you're not just unhappy, you're miserable. He knows it's his fault. He knows he takes advantage of the care you give him, so he stands there, guilt gnawing at him.

You walk up to him, trembling and you cup his face. Trying to silence another sob as his skin touches your hands. "Logan", you say softly.

He almost flinches at your soft touch and his eyes close momentarily. He leans towards your hands and when he opens his eyes they look red; he's holding back too.

"What?" his voice is soft, but a hoarse grumble.

"I'm so fucking sorry," you sob, thumb brushing his cheek as you try to slow down your crying to look at his face. You look over his expression and he can see it in your eyes.

It's over.

He knows your apologizing because you're about to break him, but he can't be upset because he already broke you. "Don't. Don't apologize. You have every right to hate me...to hate this life."

You sob at his words, because you don't hate him. Hell- you'd give the world to this man, but you need to save yourself.

"Logan-" you're cut off, lips met with his rough ones. He kisses you deeply, he can taste the salt from your tears. He needs to just stop you from speaking.

He knows you're going to say something that will destroy him- like "I can't do this anymore" or "I want to break up". He breaks the kiss for a split second to kiss you harder, all teeth and firm lips.

When he finally pulls away for a long moment he can see more tears spilling over your eyes.

"Please-" you start but are instantly cut off by his lips once more. God. He can't do it. He can't hear you say those words, can't watch them fall from your pretty lips. He knows he'll lose it. He'll lose his shit if he hears you say you're leaving. So he settles for kissing you, hands gripping your face as he devours you, hungry and desperate.

You finally get some word in, "Logan we can't.." mumbled against his lips. And once again he kisses you, hands still framing your face.

"Shut up", he growls, "Just shut the fuck up and kiss me back." His voice breaks as he ends the sentence. You hear the pain and desperation. You can see the demand, the very clear Logan that is going to get what he wants. One more time.

He knows he shouldn't continue kissing you, he knows you just want to leave but he can't stop himself. He needs this. He needs this one last thing from you before everything that matters in his life falls apart.

You can feel his hands, rough and heavy, tugging your skirt up. You try to get a word in, to plead with him, but his kisses are insistent.

"Logan..."

He continues to kiss you even as he lifts up your skirt, his hands quickly finding your panties and hooking his fingers into the hem. He's not thinking straight, he's only thinking of one thing- he needs to fuck you before you leave him.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up", he growls.

"We can't- we shouldn't", but yet you make no move to stop him as he tears your panties off, the fabric snapping and being shoved somewhere in a back pocket.

His movements are raw with pain, anger, desperation. He unbuckles his belt as he moves back to kiss you again.

"We can fucking do this one last time before you leave me," He says and he lifts you up suddenly, wrapping your legs around his waist.

You cry softly, because you know this is the last time you'll feel him like this. You continue to cry, arms wrapping around his neck as he walks you to the wall, holding you against it. He unzips his jeans quickly with one hand, the other wrapped tight around you.

His voice is broken when he speaks against your lips, "I'm going to fuck you one last time before I lose everything."

Your lip trembled at his words, you could see the pain, the man you love slowly crumbling before you. He kisses you again and his tongue pushes past your lips. You slide your tongue along his in a slow movement, like you're trying to memorize the way he tastes, the way his tongue rests against yours.

With another passionate kiss he nips at your lower lip, catching it with his teeth and pulling softly. A small sigh leaves your lips and he lets it go.

He fishes his cock out of his jeans and he looks down.

"Christ...I'm so fucking sorry..." he says. You watch his face then look down as he places the tip of his cock at your entrance, his hand shaking as he does so and your heart aches. He mumbles, "One more time."

You let out a whimpered moan, head falling back against the wall as he pushes into you. It's rough, desperate, like he's trying to memorize how you feel as quickly as possible, like you're already slipping away from him. He knows this isn't right, it's too desperate, it's him trying to save himself, trying to take what he wants before you save yourself.

"Baby.... fuck- I don't want to miss you", he said, pulling out before slamming back in.

Your cunt clenches around him, greedily sucking him in as it always does. He fills you to the brim, pushing so deep all you can feel is Logan. And you can't believe you're about to live a life where you won't be fully enveloped by him. You can feel the thick head of his cock brushing the sensitive walls, brushing your cervix with each rough thrust.

Every ridge and vein is memorized, your body squeezing tight to take everything in. His heavy balls hit your ass, the thick coarse hair at the base of his cock becoming drenched and sticky from your wet heat. Each thrust presses his skin against your clit.

You bury your head in his neck, moaning and drooling against it as your body is slowly taken into ecstasy, allowing him to use you, to take all of you. Your hands clutch his shirt, gripping so tight you thought your nails might puncture holes.

"Always take me so well..." He rests his head on your shoulder as he fucks you, his thrusts desperate as he breaths in your perfume. His pace is frantic, and you can tell he's close by the way his cock twitches inside your pussy. "Please...don't leave me", he chokes out between thrusts.

You moan, trying to speak, "I-I have to-"

He cuts you off with a brutal kiss, teeth slamming together and his tongue searching your mouth. It's messy and uncoordinated, spit mixing, dirty. He starts thrusting faster, rutting his hips, grinding, circling, like a man starved trying to pull everything out of you and himself.

He feels so good, he always feels so good but this time its different. This time is the last, and you can feel everything. The emotions rolling off him, his hands on your back, arms wrapped around you, his breath on your collar, his cock twitching as he hits a particularly deep spot.

"Fuck", he groans. He knows your body and he knows it better than he knows his own, he lifts his head to see your face. He holds you tighter and he thrusts harder, hitting a deeper spot to get you going.

"That's it, sweetheart," He mutters, "Come on, give me one more..."

He can feel your body tense, going rigid as you sob and a strangled moan leaves your lips. Your pussy clenches around, sucking him in and fluttering around his cock and it sends him to his own end. He slams into you before twitching and holding you tight against the wall, pressing his cock so deep inside you as he comes its borderline painful against your cervix. You feel the familiar warmth of his cum filling you up and his low groans fill your ear as he buries his face in your shoulder.

When he lifts his head up you kiss him, this time its soft, a passionate silent shift- one that displays how much you'll fucking miss this. For a moment, one gone too quickly, everything is perfect- no fights, no nightmares, no arguing, no manipulation, no breakup.

He slips out of you, a small groan leaving his lips. Tears start to leave your eyes again, softly falling. You squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on your breathing so your cries don't make a sound. He can feel your tears, the broken breaths against his lips and it breaks him to feel your body fall apart.

He pulls back slightly, wiping a tear.

"Don't cry", he says softly. His hand slowly set you down, holding you tight still- both not wanting to let you go, but also making sure you can stand on your own. He presses his forehead against yours, "Please don't cry."

"I have to go..." you whisper, voice hoarse.

He freezes.

His jaw tightens and he knows he has to. He has to let you go. He takes a step back, hands hovering over you for a moment before letting them down to your side. He watches you, watches how you pull yourself together and he knows you're able to do that because of him.

He knows how many times he made you feel less, made you feel like you needed to be strong, or that you weren't doing enough. He fucking hated himself for it. He knows you're trying to pretend like nothing just happens.

He zips himself back up and looks away from you, "Right."

You turn away, fixing your skirt and you sob, mouth hung open as you stay as quiet as possible so he doesn't hear or see how hard the tears are falling. But he can hear it. His senses can hear the faint, choked sobs and he feels his chest cave. He wants to pull you back in his arms but he doesn't, he fights his instincts to take you and clenches his fists at his sides.

"Don't do this," He mutters.

You try to breathe again as you grab one of his flannels off the back of an armchair, tucking it under your arm. He knows your taking it to remember him, and he hates how he can see you in your apartment already, tucked into your couch, sobbing into his old flannel as you watch an episode of Supernatural to calm down. God he hates this. Fucking hates it. And you hate it too, but you know it's right.

"You know this is right...I can't-I can't live like this anymore", your voice breaks as your throat feels incredibly tight.

"Please", he says in a tone you've never heard before. It's soft, begging, pleading.

You grab your purse from his counter and more tears fall. You can feel the remnants of him slip out of you, dripping down the inside of your thighs, reminding you...this is over. The feeling of him dripping down your thighs is different this time because it's not an admiration of what he's done to you anymore- it's the last of him leaving your body. Forever.

He knows your feeling used, discarded. He knows your feeling the finality of it all and he looks you over, "Fuck."

You look at him one last time and the only thing screaming in your mind is the words 'I love you'. But it doesn't leave your lips that way, "G-Goodbye..."

His heart fucking shatters.

He watches you clutch your purse and his flannel to your chest as you run your hands over your skirt and walk out of his apartment. He knows you're gone and he knows he just lost everything.

He watches the door for a moment, hoping you'll come back. His mind racing as he waits for you to open the door, to run back into his arms and say you'll truly never leave him like you promised.

But you don't.

He did this and he knows it. He was awful to you, but that didn't change you he felt about you. He used you most of the time for his own gain. He leans back against the wall, slumping against it and sliding down until he's sitting on the floor. He runs a hand through his hair and tugs on it as he growls.

He knows he might never touch you again. He looks over the room, the room that was moments ago filled with your presence. And sad or not he would rather have you in this room.

A tear falls down his cheek as he stares at the floor. He fucked up. He was an asshole, a perv, a fucking animal who took advantage of a sweet soul. But God, did he love you. He loved you with all his soul and he just lost the part of him that felt alive.

He takes the torn panties out of his pocket and he inhales the sent of you, squeezing his eyes shut as he breaths heavy, angry with himself.

"FUCK!"

He looks up at the ceiling, emptiness clouding his mind as he tries to figure out how to live his life without you...

Or how to win you back.

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ccastiel-l · 14 days ago

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Sweet Escape (L.H.)

(Logan Howlett)

Haiiiii mommas here to feed yall....X-men 2000 era Logan my beloved

Idk I’m a sucker for the savior/jealous bf trope. I use it all the time ,I’m sorry this is kinda that because MY MAN WOULD FIGHT FOR ME!! For all of us tbh. you may not need a man to save you but if he's the man? rapunzel in the tower baby, come get me

Summary: A first date doesn't go as expected and Logans here to help

Warnings: SMUT 18+ // fem reader, swearing, cringe flirting, Logan’s a little more playful in this one, lowkey “knight in shining armor saves me” bs but stick w me, making out, oral (fem receiving)

Word count: 10K

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

You were looking at your phone screen. The short line of text kept repeating in your mind over and over again.

‘Hey, I’ll pick u up at 8. Wear smthn nice.’

It was a guy you’d met through a mutual friend. You thought he was cute and your friend passed on your number. After a couple days of small talk, he finally invited you on a date. You still didn’t know too much about him, other than the fact that you found him attractive. Truthfully, the whole reason you gave out your number in the first place was because if you wanted to get over your ridiculously massive crush on your best friend, you had to meet someone new. You weren’t even sure if you could call it a crush anymore - you were in love with him, but there was no way in hell he saw you like that. Logan was much too preoccupied with other things. He’d mentioned many times before that he wasn’t looking to be with anybody, and that obviously included you. Still, you stared too long when he wasn’t looking, borrowed his sweatshirts and flannels and thought about him all the time. If it was only a crush, it was the most intense and soul-crushing one you’d ever had. You often tried to dull the pain of knowing he didn’t want you by telling yourself someone else would - except you really didn’t want anyone else. You wanted him to be the only guy to hold your hand, kiss you sweetly, to be who you woke up to in the morning. You only wanted him.

As fate would have it, of course, he had to pop up in the kitchen where you were staring at your phone as you sat at the kitchen island. He was in his usual jeans and white tank, always ridiculously well fitting.

“Hey.”

Logan’s voice startled you and you looked up, snapping your phone shut and practically tossing it onto the counter.

“Hi.”

He quirked an eyebrow and nodded towards the counter that your phone was on.

“Somethin’ I’m not supposed to see?”

Did you want him to see? He was one of your closest friends, and friends shared that kind of stuff, right? The idea of telling him you had a date felt weird. Unfortunately for you, he could always read you like an open book, anyway.

“What, did you get a lil’ boyfriend or somethin’?” he snorted while he looked through the fridge, his back turned to you. Something about his teasing tone irked you and you could feel your face getting warm.

“Not technically,” you began to speak and he immediately turned around. His eyebrows were furrowed and he looked concerned.

“Wait, that was a joke - do you really?”

You were surprised that he even seemed to care. You figured chit chat about dating was something he’d tell you to save for your ‘girlfriends’, but he seemed completely invested.

“Again, technically, no -“

“C’mon, there’s no ‘technically’, princess,” he reminded you and your stomach felt funny when you heard the nickname.

“I’m going on a date next week,” you finally managed to say. You waited for him to start the relentless teasing, but it never came. His voice was flat and his face expressionless.

“Who is he?”

“Uh,” you paused for a second, curious about his uncharacteristic behavior, “I met him through a friend, I gave him my number.”

He leaned across from you with his arms on the counter.

“So,” he took a sip of the soda he found in the back of the fridge, “you gave him your number?”

“Yes?”

You were lost on why he was interrogating you.

“You like him?”

“Well, I thought he was cute,” you shrugged, “what’s with all the questions?”

He mirrored the action.

“Just wanna be sure you’re safe, is all.”

You felt like you couldn’t breathe when he said that. You weren’t really sure why.

“I can take care of myself, you know,” you reminded him and he nodded with a small smile.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t worry about you.”

You felt it again, like the weight of the world crushing your sternum.

“I know. I’ll be safe,” you told him and he nodded.

“So, where’s he takin’ you?”

“Good question,” you pursed your lips, “he didn’t say, just that he was picking me up at eight.”

“Hm,” Logan narrowed his eyes, “I don’t like that.”

“What? Why?” you laughed.

“I don’t know - did he even ask you what you like? Where you might want to go? This dude could be taking you to an empty parking lot, for all you know.”

You considered his words for a moment, acknowledging they did hold some truth.

“True. And I don’t know, I figured we’d talk about that stuff over dinner. But really, I’ll be fine - you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Alright,” he sighed, “but you’ll call me if you need me to come pick you up, right?”

“Yes, Logan,” you couldn’t help smiling. The poor schmuck you were meeting certainly had big shoes to fill.

You had an art class to teach the next day with some of the older kids. The semester’s topic was still life and portraits - drawing someone or something from life as realistically as possible. Everyone got to choose whether they wanted to draw an object or a classmate.

It was the first day of the new semester, meaning today was mostly just going to be going over what defined the two and showing examples.

You’d gotten through the first half - still life - and you flipped to a blank page to start the portrait section when you heard the classroom door open and close behind you.

Logan was standing in the doorway with his hands in his jacket pockets. The classroom erupted in an overlapping chorus of ‘hello’s’.

“Hey, you mind if I sit in? I wanna know more about drawing, uh…” Logan squinted and leaned forward a bit to read the white board behind you, “portraits.”

“Sure,” you laughed nervously, “you can take a seat in the back, if you want.”

You tried to return to teaching but paused for a minute, having lost everything you wanted to say the second he walked in.

“Uh, so,” you began, trying your best to pretend Logan wasn’t on a stool in the back with his eyes glued to you, “portraits are pretty self explanatory - you’re drawing someone’s face. Does anyone want to come up here to be an example?”

Logan was the only one to raise his hand.

“Do any students want to come up to be an example?” you smiled.

Still, no one. You sighed in defeat, knowing you were about to be an anxious mess if you had to talk and stare at him at the same time. You knew it would at least be an easy demonstration, though. You’d die before telling him, but you often doodled pictures of him in the margins of scrap paperwork and in the sketchbook you carried with you. You’d memorized every feature of his face by now that you could probably draw him with your eyes closed.

“Alright, Logan,” you chuckled and waved him over. You had him sit on a stool in front of you and told him to keep still.

“What happens if I don’t?”

“You’re gonna have uneven mutton chops,” you laughed a little and some of the kids followed suit.

He tried his best to stand up straight and you started to loosely sketch his face.

“So,” you spoke slowly as you drew, “you start with loose shapes - round head, oval eyes, the general shape of the nose - so you know where the features are.”

“Do I really have a round head?” Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Only when your ego inflates it,” you joked, earning a few laughs from the kids.

He rolled his eyes.

You continued explaining the basics and found yourself stuttering and pausing much more than you usually do. It was like his stare was burning holes through you - he followed every movement you made. Even while you were nervous, it still didn’t take you long to make a basic outline of his face that looked almost exactly like him. Practice does make perfect, after all.

“That was fast,” one of the girls in front said, “do you always draw portraits that fast? I don’t think I could do that in fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, uh, no,” you looked between Logan and the paper on the easel in front of you, “I just - you know, I look at Logan all the time, I know what he looks like.”

A smile crept onto his face and you realized how that may have sounded.

“Not like I stare at him or anything, I just mean - I mean we’re friends, we work together,” you cleared your throat, “so of course I see him all the time.”

Your face was practically on fire and a couple of the kids in the back were snickering.

“Okay, anyway,” you tried your best to move on, “take as long as you need, you don’t want to rush your work. Just get the basic shapes down, and when you think you’re done with that, let me know so I can let you move on to the next step.”

The kids got to work and chatted amongst themselves, some moving their chairs around to draw each other. You looked back at your drawing and to Logan again.

“Are you gonna show me?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Fine,” you sighed, “but it’s not finished, I could do a much better job with more time and if I had-“

“Shh,” he chuckled, “lemme see.”

He hopped off the stool and eagerly came around to stand next to you.

“Holy shit,” he said under his breath with a short laugh, “that’s me!”

“Who else did you think I was drawing?” you joked.

“That’s crazy, it’s like looking in a mirror,” he bent down a little to get a closer look.

“Eh,” you shrugged, “I don’t think it’s as good as I could’ve done.”

“Can I keep it?”

You looked at him with wide eyes, gesturing to the paper.

“You want it?”

“Yeah, It’s awesome,” he couldn’t look away from the drawing, “I’ll pay you for it, if you-“

“No, no,” you waved your hand dismissively, “it’s yours.”

You tore the page at the top and held it out for him to take, but he snatched a pencil from the easel instead.

“Sign it?”

You were smiling so wide that your cheeks hurt.

“Sign it? Logan, what am I, a celebrity?”

“You probably will be if you keep making stuff like that.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and sighed, taking the pencil from his hand and signing your name and the date at the bottom. You paused and stared at the signature, realizing it needed something. You scribbled a small heart next to your name and handed it back.

He took it from your hands and looked it over again.

“A heart, huh?” he grinned, “I don’t think your little boyfriend is gonna like that.”

You rolled your eyes and pretended to be unfazed by his remark.

“Are you done disrupting my class?” you joked.

“Yes, Picasso,” he smiled and waved the paper in his hands, “thank you.”

You nodded and watched him walk out of the room. The rest of the class was a breeze, though you couldn’t shake the excitement of knowing he liked what you drew so much that he wanted to keep it.

Only a day or two later, you were in the library, leaned over your sketchbook and a book of anatomy references, both wide open. You had one pencil in your hand, another behind your ear and an extra one on the table beside you - just in case. The afternoon rain was pelting the outside of the building, echoing the pitter-patter of the drops hitting the ceiling and windows. It was probably a little after classes had finished for the day - maybe three or four o’clock - yet, the overcast sky depriving the day of sunlight made it feel much later. The library was mostly empty, save for a few stray students scattered in the large area, and for that, you were thankful. You loved your students, all the students, really, but it was a gift to be able to work in peace. You could’ve worked in your room, sure, but staying there every time you needed to draw or paint would mean you’d be in there for a lifetime.

“Whatcha’ workin’ on?”

You were startled by Logan’s voice, comically sending the pencil in your hand flying when you jolted.

“Jesus, fuck,” you sighed and placed a hand over your heart.

“Sorry, didn’t realize you were so locked in on that,” he nodded towards the books and leaned across the table, turning the anatomy book to face him.

“I just need more practice,” you explained, picking up the other pencil from the table - this was what the extras were for, anyway - and using it as a pointer on the pages of the book, “I can’t get any of this right for the life of me.”

He squinted, picking up the book to hold it closer to his face. He flipped through page after page until he stopped, muffling a laugh. He was looking between you and the open book, nearly red faced from holding in his laughter.

“What’s so funny?” you whispered rather loudly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Nothin’, nothin’,” he replied after taking a moment to catch his breath, “I guess I just didn’t realize you were practically that kind of anatomy.”

You picked up on his hint and rolled your eyes. You reached up and pulled the book from his hands, flipping back to the page you were on before.

“You’re an adult, Logan - an old one, I might add - you can’t handle seeing a drawing of a penis? Besides, that’s not even what I’m practicing.”

“Hm,” he hummed, leaning on the table with his hands. He blinked at the sketchbook in front of you and another amused grin spread across his face.

“So, is that the kinda stuff you draw in that little book of yours?” he asked.

You looked up at him with a nearly blank expression, eyebrows raised.

“What, dicks? You think I spend my free time drawing dicks?”

Even in a harsh whisper, your voice undoubtedly echoed farther than you intended.

“Maybe,” Logan shrugged, “I always heard quiet people were supposed to be freaky.”

“Freaky?”

“Freaky.”

“Logan,” you rubbed your eyes and rested your face in your hands for a moment, “did you need something? I’m trying to figure this out and you’re not helping.”

“Ah, fine,” he reluctantly pushed himself from the table, “one more thing, though.”

Before you could even react, he reached over in the blink of an eye and snatched your sketchbook from in front of you. You gasped and jumped out of your chair to grab it from his hands, but he started to back away as he flipped through page after page. Your face began to burn.

“You’ve totally got at least one in here,” he joked, holding it far above your head. You were reaching up in a desperate attempt to grab it. If he saw those drawings you’d made of him, you might as well have just dropped dead on the spot.

“Logan, please, just - there’s some kind of private stuff in-“

He stopped abruptly on a particular page, the amused smile fading from his face ever so slightly. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and your stomach turned.

“This…” he paused, turning the book around to face you, “is this me?”

Oh, god. You didn’t drop dead like you thought you would. It sure felt like it, though, when your hands started to feel a little numb.

The two pages were crowded with doodles in ballpoint pen, small portraits and silly cartoons of the shit he did to piss you off.

“It, uh…” you hesitated, “yeah.”

You didn’t have any option but to be honest - you’re a terrible liar and it was so obvious they were of Logan. They were like photographs, small moments you’d captured in your mind and tried to recreate on paper later. You knew there was one far into the book of him sitting in the glow of the setting sun, a wide smile on his face that you rarely ever saw. You’d told a joke or said something stupid, did something to make him laugh, and the image was burned into your brain.

You hoped he wouldn’t flip through the book any further.

The library had already been silent, but the silence between the two of you standing in the enormous and practically empty room was different. It was awkward, maybe a little tense - you really weren’t sure. One thing you were sure of, however, was that you wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“I just - I - well, I think you’ve..got a nice face,” you shrugged in an attempt to play casual, “that’s all.”

“Mm, so you think I’m cute?” he quirked an eyebrow, flashing a small smile. It brought you relief to see it again. He didn’t seem to be nearly as creeped out as you thought he might’ve been.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes, “you’ve just got distinctive features, you’re fun to draw.”

“Yeah?” he held out the book and you quickly took it back, “what’s that mean - what are my features?”

“The hair,” you answered instantly, pointing for emphasis, “the mutton chops. The eyes.”

“My eyes?”

“Uh-huh,” you finally returned to your original seat and attempted to return to your work. With your hands and mind so hyper focused, you didn’t think much of what you were saying, letting out whatever came to mind with little realization.

“What about ‘em?”

“Pretty,” you said simply with your head still down, “green and brown, they kinda glow in the sun.”

If you’d looked up at him, you would’ve seen the wide smile spread across his face, the kind of smile so genuine that it bared most of his teeth.

“Do they? I guess I never noticed,” he said softly, staring down at you.

When you finally processed his response and tone, you paused, backtracking in your mind to what you had just said. You looked up from your book and held eye contact for only a second before he looked away.

“Hey, I’ve got a meeting with Charles and I don’t wanna be late again,” he nodded towards the door, “I’ve already used you as an excuse, he won’t buy it a second time.”

“I’m surprised he bought it the first time. What did you tell him?”

He shrugged, backing away and towards the door.

“I don’t know, I might’ve told him you were teaching me to draw dicks or somethin’.

“Fuck you,” you mouthed as he became further, a smile stuck on your face. When he finally turned and left, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

The day of your date approached fast. Rotating through outfit after outfit, it was an hour till eight o’clock and you still were stuck on what to wear. Jean and Ororo weren’t around tonight, but Logan happened to be home. It was a little odd to ask him for help with an outfit and you knew it, but nerves would always get the best of you. Even through whatever weird feelings you had for him, he was still your close friend, someone who’d been there for you countless times before.

You picked up your phone and pressed the button for his contact. It only rang a few times before he picked up.

“Aren’t you home?” he asked immediately.

“Yes,” you laughed a little, “but I don’t feel like walking all the way down to your room when I’m half dressed.”

That came out wrong.

“Uh, I just - I need your advice on an outfit,” you continued, “I am dressed, for clarification.”

You heard him chuckle on the other end.

“Is tonight your big date?”

“It’s not a big date - just a date.”

“You want me to come to your room?”

“Please?”

It felt a little funny to ask but he agreed anyway, to your surprise.

He was knocking on your door minutes later and you went over to open it, half clothed in a pair of dress pants and an undershirt.

“Hi,” he greeted, eyes instantly dropping to your outfit.

“A little plain for a date, don’t you think? And shouldn’t you wear shoes?”

“Funny,” you scoffed playfully, “listen, I’ve got a couple options, okay? Sit.”

He sat at the edge of your bed as you rummaged through your closet.

“Shouldn’t Jean or ‘roro help you with this?” he asked.

“Yeah, but they’re not here,” you answered while picking out a blouse, “so you’re my gal-pal for the moment. So, what about this?”

You turned and held up the blouse on the hanger. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

“Too green.”

“Okay,” you huffed, pulling out another one, “how about this one?”

“Too purple,” he answered immediately.

You put your fists on your hips while still holding a hanger in each.

“Alright, are you gonna do this with everything I pull out?”

“Maybe,” he smiled, “ya got any dresses?”

“Should I wear a dress?”

You hung the shirts back up and continued flipping through garments.

“What about the little black one with the nice lace thing on the front?”

You were glad you were facing the closet because you were smiling so hard that it hurt. He’d seen you in that dress maybe once or twice but he seemed to remember it well, and that’s what made you giddy. You took the familiar garment from the closet and held it up to your body, turning around to face him.

“This one?”

“Mhm.”

“Why this one?” you smirked a bit, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Looks nice on you,” he answered simply and you couldn’t help biting the inside of your cheek. How badly you wished this date was with him. You were aware of how odd this was, asking the guy you were kind of in love with to help you pick out an outfit for a date with someone else, but you could never really stay away from him.

You thanked him and he nodded, standing up to leave.

“One more tiny favor?” you asked sheepishly in an attempt to stop him from leaving.

“Mhm?”

“Stay while I try it on? I wanna know if it looks like it fits right, it’s been awhile since I’ve worn it. It’ll only take a minute, I swear,” you looked at him with pleading eyes, the warm light of your bedroom reflecting in them.

“Sure,” he shrugged and sat back down where he had been before, waiting while you slipped into the bathroom.

When you stepped out, barefoot in the little black dress, you really wished you had a camera in hand to capture Logan’s face.

He took a long sigh and you almost thought you saw him trail his eyes up and down your figure. He was scratching the hair on his jaw in an unconscious habit, something you knew he did when he was deep in thought.

“Looks okay?” you asked innocently, self consciously messing with the tight fabric around your middle, “it’s much tighter than it was a few years ago.”

“Looks, uh- it looks like it fits,” his cleared his throat and nodded, finally looking up from your body to your face.

“Yeah?”

You turned around and looked over your shoulder, awaiting his affirmation to wether or not the dress looked right. You bit down an amused grin when you realized his eyes were practically glued to your ass. He was leaning back on his elbows, staring while he seemed to be gnawing at the inside of his cheek. After a second or two under his burning stare, feeling warm and confident, you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped you.

“Logan?”

He looked like he’d been snapped out of an altered state, blinking his eyes a few times before looking into yours.

“Hm?”

“The back looks okay?”

“It looks- yeah,” he cleared his throat, “looks alright.”

You thanked him and he took a breath to speak again.

“Oh, by the way,” he started, standing from his spot on your bed and walking to the door, “don’t forget what I said before - call me if you need me, okay?”

You nodded and watched him close the door behind him. You ended up being extremely thankful for his offer.

When you’d been told to ‘wear something nice’ you would not have assumed that meant you would be at some dive bar on the edge of town. Your ‘date’ was plastered after about an hour and a half, drunkenly rambling with other patrons and yelling at the TV that displayed the current football game. He even sat with another woman at the bar - you figured he was so drunk that he’d forgotten you were even there. You would have already left, had he not been the one who drove you here. This had to be a date from Hell.

Reluctantly, you pulled out your cell phone and slipped into the ladies room to call Logan when you decided you had enough. So much for dating to forget him - you were quite literally leaving your date to be with him, though it was arguably deserved. You’d handed the bartender a twenty dollar bill to find the guy a ride home, anyway.

You dialed Logan’s number and expected to wait, but he picked up on the second ring, speaking before you even said hello.

“Are you okay?”

You smiled to yourself.

“Yes, Logan, I’m okay. I was just gonna ask if you would mind picking me up. This date may be the worst one I’ve ever been on.”

“Did he do somethin’ to you?”

“No, no - he’s just wasted, hasn’t talked to me in the past forty five minutes and is sitting with another girl at the bar. Not my picture perfect idea of a night out, if I’m being honest.”

“Where are you? I’ll come getcha, honey.”

You hated how the nickname made your stomach feel twisted. You repeated the name of the bar and he sounded like he was going to pop a blood vessel.

“He took you there!? For a first date? That place is always crawling with creeps.”

“Thanks for the comfort, Lo.”

“What a dick,” he grumbled into the other end of the line, “don’t worry, I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Thank you,” you sighed in relief, “I owe you.”

“No, you don’t,” he insisted, “you know I’ll always be wherever you need me.”

“Let me know when you’re here, I’ll come out.”

“Alright, I’ll see you soon.”

With that, you snapped the phone shut and went back out to sulk at your table. You weren’t too disappointed about losing the guy himself - he wasn’t anyone interesting - but more with the fact that this was supposed to be your fun night out and it was definitely the opposite.

After about only ten minutes of sitting down, a guy you didn’t recognize sat across from you. He wasn’t too bad looking - expensive jacket, nice hair - but nothing to make a fuss about.

“You here alone?”

That’s never a question you want to be asked in this place.

“Uh, no, my date is at the bar,” you motioned vaguely in his direction.

“And not with the pretty thing he came with, huh?”

Oh, no.

You sighed and crossed your arms.

“The ‘pretty thing’ called for a ride home. I’m leaving.”

“Aw, and miss out on all the fun?” he leaned forward on his elbows and you sat back, “you can always find another guy in here to take you home.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed, “not happening.”

“Not even if I buy you a drink?”

“No chance in hell.”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head, taking a cigarette from his pocket and holding it between his lips.

“No need to have an attitude, baby, I’m just talkin’ with you.”

You had to stop yourself from cringing.

“I’m not in the mood to talk.”

He smiled and lit his cigarette.

“Yeah? In the mood to do somethin’ else?”

“Alright,” you huffed and stood from your chair, grabbing your bag with you, “I’m gonna go wait for my ride somewhere else.”

You swiftly walked away and out the door, leaning against the brick wall of the bar with your arms crossed. It wasn’t too late - probably somewhere between ten and eleven - but the streets being so empty made it seem much later.

The door swung open and the guy who’d sat at your table emerged from the bar. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and leaned on his shoulder against the wall, inches from you.

“Do you need something?” you narrowed your eyes and prayed that Logan would pull up any second.

“I can’t talk to a pretty lady?”

He blew smoke in your face and you pretended to be unbothered, though your eyes stung like hell.

“Pretty lady doesn’t wanna talk to you,” you shot him a short, tight lipped smile and turned your view back towards the parking lot.

“I like a woman who talks back, you know?” he smirked and moved to stand in front of you with one hand on the wall above your head.

“Good, then you’ll love this - fuck off.”

You thought you couldn’t be any clearer, but it didn’t seem to matter much.

“Ooh,” he chuckled, “you’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh?”

Like an angel sent from heaven, you saw Logan’s pick up truck pull into the lot. You thought you were free, till the creep put his free hand against the wall beside you to cage you in.

“I wonder what else that mouth of yours is good for.”

You felt your phone buzz repeatedly in your purse. You scanned the lot and found his truck again, parked facing you. He was far enough that you could just make out the shape of him in the driver's seat with his phone to his ear.

“Biting,” you said flatly.

“Hm,” he was still talking with his cigarette held in the corner of his mouth, “I can get behind a little pain.”

Christ. Your phone continued to buzz in your purse.

“Expect a lot.”

“Hey, I don’t need a safe word,” he laughed.

The second your phone stopped going off, you heard a car door slam shut. You looked over to see Logan walking towards the bar and attempted to duck under the guy's arm and go around him, but he was too fast.

“Where do you think you’re goin’, sweetheart?” he had a hard grip on your wrist.

You could tell the exact moment Logan saw you because he suddenly looked like he was about to slice the guy to shreds. You made eye contact as a silent plea for help, but he was one step ahead of you.

You watched in satisfaction when he finally came up and yanked the guy back by his jacket so hard that he nearly fell on his ass.

“Alright, bub,” he huffed, “beat it.”

He took your hand in his and you were almost too excited by that alone to notice the other guy hadn’t shut his mouth.

“Hey, man, you can have a turn when I’m done with her.”

Logan dropped your hand so he could partially unsheathe his claws.

“You’re not gonna have a fucking ‘turn’ with her, but I’ll have one with you.”

“Woah, woah, woah - alright,” he instantly put his hands up and backed away from you, “hey, man, she never said she had a boyfriend.”

“As if that fuckin’ matters,” he snarled, “she’s not interested.”

You hoped that would be the end of it - the guy would see the sharp adamantium and cower away - but he clearly couldn’t tell when it was time for him to go.

“C’mon, you’re mad ‘cause she was gonna come home with me?”

“In your dreams,” you scoffed and Logan reached his limit.

You heard the metallic clink of his claws pushing themselves out completely and you instantaneously grabbed his wrist with both hands, to which he looked back at you.

“Not worth it,” you reminded him, “let’s go home.”

He glared at the man in front of him and let you drag him further into the lot, retracting his claws. As soon as you both turned around, the asshole had one last thing to say.

“Bet I could fuck ‘er better than you could, freak.”

You immediately put yourself in front of Logan when he turned around and tried to lunge forward.

“Don’t,” you warned. You were stern, but it was really a plea for him to just walk away. Hearing gross shit like that from men wasn’t new and you wanted to rip the guy to pieces as much as Logan did, but you also knew it wouldn’t be worth it to waste time on someone like him.

Logan was breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring and his jaw clenched. He could be scary when he was angry, sure, but not when you knew it wasn’t you he was angry with. He reluctantly let you turn him back around with a deep exhale, but not without shouting back over his shoulder one last time.

“No, you couldn’t, bub.”

He slung his arm around your shoulder as you walked to his truck. You felt weak in the knees, like you’d fall to the ground if you couldn’t lean against him. You couldn’t help giggling to yourself like a lovesick idiot with a hand over your mouth.

“What’s so funny, huh?”

He gave you an amused grin and pulled you into him further. He seemingly managed to calm himself down, something very rare for him.

“Nothin’,” you cleared your throat, “nothing.”

“That wasn’t the guy you were on a date with, was it?”

“No,” you shook your head as you approached the truck, “I left him in the bar, the other one just followed me out.”

Logan opened the passenger door for you.

“I guess you’ve got guys throwing themselves at you left and right then, huh?” he chuckled, “doesn’t surprise me much.”

He closed your door and you felt butterflies in your stomach. He was abnormally…flirty, more so than usual. When he had been flirty in the past, you always figured it was only to tease you somehow, as he’d done with plenty of women.

When he slid into the driver's seat, you expected him to turn the key in the ignition and start the drive home. Instead, the keys rested in his lap.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get the date you deserved,” he said earnestly, “I’ll take a guess and say he didn’t deserve you anyway.”

“Hm,” you hummed, eyes locked with this, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

He finally broke eye contact and sighed, pretending to be interested in the mostly empty parking lot. You were gnawing on your bottom lip while waiting for his answer.

“I don’t know - if you’re gonna go out with a guy, he’s gotta be good enough for you,” he shrugged, “not some asshole who sits with another chick while he’s on a date with you or some creep who can’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“So what kind of guy do you think would deserve me?”

You were nudging yourself over a line you’d dreamed of crossing; that divide between friends and something more, but you had no expectation that he would even entertain the idea. You thought he was the kind of guy you deserved - or wanted, at least.

He was just staring at you, looking like he was trying to think of something to say.

“A guy who’d take care of you, I guess,” he sighed, “you can care of yourself, I know, it’s just - you need someone who sticks up for you, loves everything about you, holds your hair back when you’re sick, all that kinda stuff, y’know?”

That last part struck a chord with you. You instantly thought back to the last time you’d been sick. You’d gotten the flu and were practically bedridden for what felt like forever, and with Logan being immune to things like that, he was in your room with you most of the time to keep you company - even when he had to hold your hair so you could vomit in the bathroom. You realized that he was describing himself, though you weren’t sure if that was intentional or if he was truly that oblivious.

“Really?” was all you could say.

“Of course,” he nodded, “I don’t think you deserve anything less.”

You thought over the question you wanted to ask and let it balance on the tip of your tongue. You were a little fearful of the answer you’d get, but it still came out anyway.

“What about you?”

Logan furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“What about me for what?”

You chuckled nervously.

“What if - I don’t know, what if I wanted some like you and - and not anything less.”

He was only staring, lips parted in what you assumed was surprise.

“That was stupid,” you said immediately, feeling embarrassment flood your body, “I’m sorry, I - it was just a bad night, and -“

“It’s not stupid,” he finally responded, eyes glued to yours in a way that started a fire low in your stomach, “I mean…I can show you how a guy’s supposed to treat you.”

You weren’t sure exactly what he was getting at but it made your heart flutter. With his heightened senses, you figured he noticed it pretty quickly. It wasn’t what you pictured happening when you finally told him you wanted him. You weren’t sure if he meant that he’d show you because he wanted to be with you or he saw it only as a platonic favor.

“You know, nothin’ you’re not comfortable with. I can just help you out a little,” Logan finally turned the key in the ignition, backing out and starting the drive home. You mulled over his words while his eyes remained focused on the road. You still couldn’t decipher what his intent was.

“So,” you paused, “what exactly does that mean?”

You could hear your own nervousness in your voice.

“Just doing boyfriend stuff with you,” he chuckled a bit and you could see the small smile tugging at his lips.

“Mhm,” you hummed and nodded, “so dating without dating?”

“Well,” he took a deep breath, “I guess, but that’s up to you.”

“What’s up to me?”

“If it’s real or not.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“You do understand that two people have to like each other to date, right?”

“Ooh, ouch,” he let out a short laugh, “but yeah, honey, duh. Why do you think I offered?”

Your mouth kind of hung open in disbelief, eyes glued to the side of his face. He looked calm as could be, practically smug.

“I’ll do all that dating stuff with you to actually show you how you’re supposed to be treated, but if you wanted that with me for real , I wouldn’t say no,” he continued. He was so damn relaxed about it, as if what he said hadn’t rocked your world.

“Huh,” you still weren’t sure exactly where to start, “and - and, uh, what specifically do you mean by ‘boyfriend stuff’?”

“You know,” he shrugged, “taking you out to dinner, makin’ you feel pretty, going on dates.”

“I’ve never actually been on a real date,” you admitted sheepishly. If tonight was a night of honesty, you might as well confess it all.

“You’re messing with me,” he let out a short laugh and shook his head.

“I’m serious!” you insisted, unable to resist mirroring his smile, “Tonight was supposed to be my official first. I’ve had a couple boyfriends before, but I don’t remember a single one of them actually taking me out on a date.”

“What?” he furrowed his eyebrows and actually took his eyes off the road to see if your expression was serious.

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “I mean, there’s a reason they’re ex-boyfriends.”

“Damn right,” he scoffed, seemingly agitated, “what the hell did they do then, sit on the couch and watch tv all day?”

“Pretty much, actually, yeah,” you nodded, “that and call me at two in the morning to ask if I can come ‘cuddle’.”

You used air quotes as you said the last word of your sentence, implicating an ulterior motive - sex, of course.

“I’m gonna bet even sleepin’ with ‘em wasn’t worth the time,” he suggested.

“You’d win that bet,” you chuckled and felt the blood rush to your cheeks, “it would never take more than a couple minutes.”

“Jesus,” he exclaimed, “never? Not once?”

“I don’t think so,” you looked away in thought, “record time is maybe…fifteen minutes? It could be a little less.”

“Did any of ‘em even bother trying anything for you?” he asked in disbelief, “you know, like goin’ down on you and all that.”

You felt your face burning up almost instantly at the question.

“Well, I - I mean, yeah, yeah - just not till I was, like…” you paused, trying to think of the best phrasing.

“Not until you came?” he asked.

You cleared your throat and pretended to be fascinated by the road in front of you. The tips of your ears were just as warm as your cheeks.

“That, yeah,” you replied in a small voice.

He sighed, furrowing his eyebrows and staring at the road ahead of him. You had another ten minutes left of the trip back home, but Logan pulled over on the side of the road in the dark night. The only things visible, if not in the headlights, were highlighted by moonlight. The chirp of cricket songs filled the air to replace the usual night silence as he turned off the car and pulled the key from the ignition.

“Can I do somethin’ for you?” he turned to you and placed a hand on your thigh, gently kneading your flesh, “you can say no.”

Context clues would have you believe you knew exactly what it was he wanted to do, but reasoning would not let you believe he actually wanted to do that, especially here and now and with you.

“Do what?” You asked softly, curious eyes flickering from his hand on your thigh to his eyes trained on you. He gently slid his hand a little further until his fingers grazed the hot skin of your inner thighs and you instinctively found yourself inching your legs open to accommodate his hand. You could feel the wet patch on your panties already starting to form.

“I wanna make you feel good, show you what it’s really supposed to feel like,” he whispered and you shuddered, lips parting in surprise.

“You - I, uh,” you stammered for a moment when your eyes were glued to his, the hazel shade glowing in the moonlight cast through the car windows, “you can do that.”

It didn’t feel real, the idea of what you knew he was offering. His eyes, the same ones that glowed in the sun, mirrored the same beauty when bathed in moonlight. This was one of those moments you’d try to capture in your memory to recreate on paper, though you weren’t sure you could do it any justice. Nothing was more beautiful than the real thing.

With a small smile, Logan retracted his hand and slipped out of his side of the truck. He came around to your side and opened your door. Because of the height of the truck, you were almost eye to eye.

“You’ll tell me if you want me to stop, right?” he asked sincerely and you nodded, completely entranced by the anticipation of what he was about to do.

He hooked his hands around the back of your knees so he could turn your body in your seat towards him. He lightly nudged your knees open with his thighs so he could stand between them and cup your face in his hands.

“You’re so beautiful, you know,” the moon's soft light illuminated his features, “you deserve to be taken care of.”

You could have cried from his sincerity had you not been too turned on to think. There was no way he was actually going to go through with it. Your heart was beating so hard and fast and he had barely even touched you yet.

He exhaled deeply, never taking his eyes off yours.

“Can I kiss you?”

There was immediate heat pooling between your legs. Still in disbelief, you nodded, eyes flickering from his parted lips to his hands on your thighs. You’d thought about this so many times - dreamed of it and woke up in a cold sweat - but nothing your mind had ever conjured up could compare to the real thing. The smell of the leather of his jacket and musk overwhelmed your senses and you could’ve just collapsed into him, inhaled his scent until you couldn’t think of anything else and let him do whatever he wanted with you.

“Gotta hear you say it, baby,” his gentle voice broke you from your thoughts and you couldn’t help the sigh that slipped between your lips when he held your chin so you could look him in the eyes.

“You - yeah, yes, please,” you pleaded, your tone of voice much needier than you thought it would be.

His soft lips on yours felt more electrifying than you’d ever dreamed they could. Some people say that with the right person, there are fireworks - bursts of light behind your eyes that coincide with the rapid beating of your heart, leaving you in a euphoric haze - and it was true, having been proven by your best friend’s gentle and loving kiss.

Best friend. He was still your best friend, after all - you just weren’t sure if he was anything more. You reminded yourself that was something you could overthink and dissect later.

While he continued to lean into your kiss and swipe his tongue into your mouth, his hands snaked higher until they slipped underneath the short skirt of your dress and slowly pushed the fabric to bunch around the very top of your thighs. The tips of his fingers brushed the fabric of your panties on your hips and you gasped into his mouth. He detached his lips from yours with a wet smack.

“You taste so damn good,” he began trailing open mouthed kisses down your jaw and neck, “bet your pussy tastes even better.”

“Jesus Christ,” you moaned into his shoulder and wrapped your arms around him, digging your fingers into the back of his jacket. His filthy words spoken against your hot skin made you squirm in the leather seat, instinctively hooking your legs around him. It wouldn’t take much from him to turn you into a ruined mess.

“You like it when I talk to you like that?” he asked and you were nodding before he even finished the question.

“You’re so cute,” he continued in a low voice, so quiet it was almost a whisper.

The wholesome compliment caught you off guard and you buried your face against the cool leather of his jacket to cool your warm cheeks.

“Really?” your voice came out small, muffled against him. He pulled back a little so he could lift your head with a gentle grip on your chin.

“Really, baby,” he chuckled a little, “I've always thought that.”

You practically melted into his touch, leaning into his hand when he held your face. You swallowed hard and surprised yourself when your voice came out so desperate.

“I think about you all the time.”

It was a confession you’d usually feel humiliated to make, but everything he was doing almost put you in a different state of mind, completely vulnerable to him.

“Yeah? What do you think about?” his voice was almost teasing. His hands slid around your backside to grab at your ass, pushing you a little further into him.

“Wanted to kiss you,” you managed to say, eyes fluttering closed when he returned his mouth to your neck, “wanted you to - to touch me.”

“I don’t think your date would like hearin’ that,” he replied smugly.

“Fuck him,” you panted, “didn’t wanna go out with him anyway.”

Logan raised his head to look you in the eyes, confusion written on his face.

“Didn’t you ask him out?” he chuckled.

You knew you’d said too much, but you’d already gone this far. There was no turning back, anyway.

“Only to kind of distract myself,” you admitted, looking down at your lap, “I liked you and thought I couldn’t have you, so - so I figured I’d try someone else.”

He was smiling wide and let out a short laugh, shaking his head. You wanted to ask what was so funny, but he caught your lips in another passionate kiss first, threading his fingers through the hair at the nape of your neck to push you impossibly further into him.

“Shoulda’ told me,” he spoke between kisses, “can take care of you so much better than any of ‘em could.”

“Please,” you begged, grabbing at the sides of his flannel underneath his jacket to pull his hips further into yours, the cold metal of his belt buckle grazing the warm and sticky fabric of your panties.

“I gotcha, honey,” he hushed, “ ‘s alright, I’m gonna show you what a mans supposed to do for ya’.”

You shivered in his arms and lifted your hips off the seat so he could drag your panties down your legs. He held them up with both hands when he’d unhooked them from your ankles. They may have barely even counted as underwear - a thong with such little fabric that your arousal had soaked right through, leaving the inside of your thighs wet.

“You planned on gettin’ lucky tonight?” he teased but you picked up on the slight jealousy in his tone, “I feel sorry for the fucker who lost out on seein’ these.”

He stuffed them in his back pocket and you opened your mouth to object, only for him to cut you off with another passionate kiss.

“I’ll buy you some new ones, ‘kay?”

You only nodded, caught in his kiss. His hands kneaded your thighs feverishly, all the way to your knees. He nudged them apart even further, pulled you to the edge of the seat and planted a kiss on your forehead.

“Relax and lemme make you feel good, alright? I’ll go as slow as you want me to,” he spoke softly against your lips.

You let out a shaky breath and watched him drop to his knees onto the grass, undoubtedly leaving dark stains on the knees of his jeans. He traced his hands along your calves, your shins, your thighs, up until he had either one of them holding you open on the inside of your thighs.

“Smell so fucking good. You know I can smell how wet you are all the time, right?” he asked sincerely and your breath quickened. It seemed probable, with his heightened senses - you just hoped every time that he miraculously couldn’t pick up on it.

“When you got in the truck, when I helped you pick out this dress, when we get paired up in training, sometimes even when I’m just talkin’ to you,” he continued, “and I can hear your little heart beat, too - all fast when I come around.”

You would’ve been embarrassed, had his face between your legs not left your mind completely blank. The only thing you could think about was his breath fanning your throbbing pussy.

“What if - what if someone sees?” you stammered but let him push the rest of your dress up to your waist to leave you fully exposed.

“No ones gonna,” he reassured you, “and if they do, might as well give ‘em a show, huh?”

You were speechless. He hooked your legs over his shoulders and spread you apart with his thumbs, the cool air sending a shiver up your spine.

“Fuck,” you heard him mumble under his breath, “she’s droolin’ for me.”

You whimpered, bringing a hand to the back of his head as a way to encourage him to finally do something, anything. You were so wet that the leather underneath you was slick with your arousal.

“Please, Logan,” you begged, practically pouting at him from your spot above him.

“What, sweetheart? You want me to touch you?”

You nodded frantically, groaning in frustration. You leaned back on one hand while your other was threaded through his hair. The stiff peaks were definitely not going to withstand your tugging and he seemed like he couldn’t care less. He leaned forward to finally glide his tongue flat against you and you gasped.

“Oh my god,” you exclaimed, letting out short gasps of air as he buried his face between your legs.

“Feels good?” His voice was muffled by your thighs.

“It - ah - ‘s really good,” you choked, panting as he moved his tongue. He swirled and licked and sucked at the hypersensitive flesh, suctioning your clit between his lips. It had you moaning loudly, unable to hold back the sounds you made when you were being eaten out like you never had been before. Logan was gentle but knew what he was doing, licking and sucking in all the right places and turning you into a dripping mess in the passenger seat of his truck. Nothing any ex boyfriend had tried to do even came close to what he was doing now. His tongue slipped down just a little further to prod at your entrance and you saw stars.

“Need you to remember somethin’, baby,” he grumbled in between planting sweet kisses in the middle of your folds, “who’s makin’ you feel this good, huh?”

“Logan,” you immediately cried, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt his tongue in you, “you, you - fuck!”

Your legs twitched when his teeth just barely grazed your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Good girl, tha’s right,” you could feel his lips curve into a smile.

The tip of his middle finger traced around your entrance and you tried to push your hips forward, eager to feel any part of him inside you, but he made sure to keep his finger just barely there. You were half leaned against the middle console now, sometimes hooking your arm around the top of the seat to keep your upper body’s balance, and you were squirming.

“So fucking wet for me,” he teased, “not one of ‘em ever did this to you?”

You were gasping for air as he stuffed you with his middle and ring finger in one hard push. You could only shake your head, trying to keep your eyes open to watch him but struggling not to squeeze them shut.

“Nah, none of ‘em could,” he paused to spit right on your cunt so he could spread his saliva with his fingers, “not that asshole you were out with, not that prick from the bar - none of ‘em.”

Ordinarily, you didn’t think you would have found that hot - shit talking any other guy who’d been with you while he ate your pussy - but he was certainly the exception. You could hear the squelching sound of his fingers plunging in and out of you intensifying and knew it was from his words. He worked up to a rhythm with his fingers and tongue, making you release a symphony of curses and cries of his name.

“C’mon, baby,” he muttered into you, “gonna make you cum in my mouth.”

“Fuck,” you panted, “don’t - don’t wanna, yet.”

You were struggling to even form the words on your tongue.

“It - ah - i don’t wan’ you to stop,” you managed to tell him, tipping your head back.

“Can take care of you again when we get home,” he grunted, “I’m not done.”

The promise of what was yet to come fueled the raging fire in the pit of your stomach, hotter and hotter until it ran through you to the ends of your fingertips and toes. Ignoring any inhibitions you may have had, you cried out his name between a string of curses and whines. Logan continued lapping at you long after you came down from your high and he finally let you push him off when he was sure he’d licked you clean.

“You taste so fucking good,” he was sucking the remnants of you off his fingers as he stood up, “you wanna taste? C’mere.”

He swiped his fingers along your pussy, collecting anything left in you so he could hold you by your chin and let you suck them clean.

You could feel the weight of his heavy cock in his jeans on the inside of your thigh when he pulled his fingers from your mouth. You desperately wanted to return the favor that he had done for you, but when you rested your palm on the front of his jeans, he pulled it away by your wrist.

“Not yet,” he told you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “ladies first.”

“I already was first,” you giggled, threading your hands through his hair in an attempt to fix it.

“I already told you,” he planted a kiss on your lips, short and sweet, “I’m not done with you.”

You let out a shaky breath and he gave you one last kiss on the cheek before helping you readjust your dress.

“Are you cold?” He asked, noticing the goosebumps on your soft skin.

“Little bit,” you shrugged, “it’s fine, we’re not far from home.”

“Nah, here,” he slipped off his jacket and held it out for you to put on.

“Logan-“

“Beautiful girl,” he interrupted, mirroring your expression when you smiled at the compliment, “it wouldn’t be very nice of me to let you freeze, now would it?”

You sighed in defeat and playfully rolled your eyes, cozying yourself within his jacket after he closed the passenger side door for you. It smelled completely of him, something that still made your heart race.

When you were both situated back in the truck, he wasted no time starting the engine and pulling out from the side of the road. You couldn’t stop glancing over at his handsome face, the hair on his cheeks still wet and shiny and faint lipstick kisses adorning his cheek and chin. His hand was kneading your thigh again, fingers tracing light circles into the warm skin every now and then to hear your breath hitch.

“You may wanna wipe your face before we get home,” you advised, popping open the glove compartment to search for stray napkins.

“No way,” he chuckled and you turned to him with a dumbfounded expression.

“ ‘m keepin’ you on me for as long as I can,” he explained, licking his lips.

“And your hair? It’s a mess,” you pointed out.

“So?”

“So? They’re gonna connect the dots, don’t you think?”

He gave a slight nod.

“Yeah, maybe. So?”

You blinked. Once, twice, three times before you could speak.

“You don’t care?”

“Oh, I care,” he smiled, “I want everybody to ‘connect the dots’. I get to brag that I’m yours and you’re mine.”

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

“ ‘cause I want everyone to know my girls taken?”

“Oh, your girl?”

“Mhm,” he hummed happily, “my girl.”

That just about answered that nagging question that had been popping up every few minutes. You were his, as he was yours.

When the truck pulled into the driveway, you took a moment to attempt to fix your hair and bury yourself inside Logan’s jacket in an attempt to hide the hickies that trailed from behind your ear to your collarbone.

“You look good in that,” he nodded towards the jacket and spoke in a teasing tone, “maybe I’ll let you borrow it again sometime.”

“Uh-huh,” you replied simply with a playful roll of your eyes, slipping out of the truck.

“I really hope everyone’s asleep by now,” you spoke quietly as you both walked to the front steps, “I do not want to have to explain everything right now - later, sure, but not at twelve AM.”

As soon as you’d slipped inside and Logan clicked the door shut, Ororos voice cut through the silence of the hall and you muffled a squeal.

“Hey! How was your date?”

You almost wanted to ask what she was talking about until you remembered.

“Uh, it - it was something,” you sighed, following her into the living room with Logan right behind you. You immediately saw Scott and Jean sitting on the couch and you cowered a little further into Logan’s jacket.

“You guys took a while to get home. Everything okay?” Jean asked.

“Yeah, yeah, we - um,” you struggled to come up with an explanation until Logan cut in.

“We stopped and grabbed something to eat.”

You had to use every muscle in your body to bite down your smile and stifle a giggle at the irony of his excuse.

Yeah, he got something to eat, alright.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement and kept your gaze on the hardwood floor.

“Dude,” Scott caught Logan’s attention and leaned forward in his seat, as if he was getting a closer look at him from across the room, “is that - uh, is that…glitter on your face?”

The other two in the room noticed it the second he had pointed it out.

“Could be,” Logan shrugged casually.

“And your hair is all messy,” Ororo chimed in, narrowing her eyes at Logan. A small smile crept onto her face. She sang your name to get your attention.

“Isn’t it a little warm in here for a coat?” She gestured towards the jacket you had cocooned yourself in.

“Nope,” you answered quickly, “I’m cold.”

“You’re cold, huh?” Jean chuckled. After only a moment of staring between the two of you, you felt a dull ache behind your eyes and shook your head in an attempt to rid yourself of it.

You’re a bad liar.

The surprise echo of her voice startled you.

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows and stared in her direction.

“I didn’t say anything,” she shrugged, feigning ignorance.

You narrowed your eyes and purposely formulated a thought you already knew would get a reaction out of her if she could hear it.

God, Scott looks so hot today.

You watched Jeans eyes widen, a gasp falling from her lips.

“Ha!” you raised a finger in her direction, “I knew you were in my head!”

“Take that back!” she pointed back at you.

“Take what back?” Scott asked but you answered before Jean had the chance.

“I was just thinking about something to piss her off,” you looked back at her, “I didn’t actually mean it.”

She sighed in relief and looked like she was going to speak again before she stopped, tilting her head in confusion as she looked at you.

“Oh, so, that’s the reason you’re late,” she realized aloud, pointing to her neck as an indication to check out your own.

Your hand flew to your neck to cover the marks you’d momentarily forgotten were there and you cleared your throat. You turned to Logan in a silent plea for him to think of an excuse. He was standing tall and smiling like an idiot, completely unaware of the conversation because he’d just been admiring you in complete focus.

“Logan,” you said softly, looking at him expectantly.

“Hm?”

He raised his eyebrows and looked at your three friends who were awaiting an explanation or excuse.

“Oh, yeah,” he fondly rubbed the side of his face to reminisce about what had taken place maybe ten minutes earlier and hooked his arm around your waist, pulling you against him, “looks good on ‘er, huh?”

You weren’t sure if he was talking about the hickeys or the jacket. Probably both.

“I, uh-“ you were wide eyed but he cut you off when he leaned down to plant a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Hey, we’re gonna be a little busy for the next few hours,” Logan began, using his arm around you to drag you towards the hallway with him, “ ‘f you need something, don’t knock on my door.”

“Logan!” you squeaked when he lifted you up to throw you over his shoulder with his palms on your ass, pulling down the short skirt of your dress to cover what was bare underneath. You craned your neck up and attempted to blow fallen hair out of your face. This was certainly noy how you planned out your night, but nonetheless, you were happy.

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A/N: thanks for sticking through the cringe and if youve been around since last year during my hardcore Logan phase ilysm so so much

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