Chapter Text
The apartment felt unusually quiet after the diner.
Not empty.
Never empty.
Just settled.
The kind of quiet that came after a long stretch of chaos.
Sunlight spilled through the living room windows in thick golden bars,
warming the hardwood floor.
Ranger occupied the brightest patch he could find, sprawled dramatically on his side with his paws twitching in sleep.
You sat at your desk.
A half-finished commission occupied one monitor.
Reference images covered the other.
The steady hum of your computer filled the room.
Normal.
God, normal felt nice.
You clicked through files.
Answered messages.
Adjusted a print setting.
The mundane rhythm of work slowly settling around you.
Across the apartment Logan occupied the couch.
One boot resting on the coffee table.
Reading glasses perched low on his nose.
A book in his hands.
The sight still caught you off guard sometimes.
Logan looked deeply unnatural holding a book.
Like somebody had handed a grizzly bear tax documents.
You glanced over.
He turned a page.
Completely serious.
The absurdity nearly made you laugh.
"You actually read that thing?"
Without looking up:
"Hm."
Very helpful.
You returned to work.
A few minutes passed.
Then:
"Hm."
You looked over.
"What."
Logan tilted his head toward the window.
Ranger.
The dog had woken up.
Now he sat beside the glass.
Watching birds.
Occasionally huffing at them.
The birds remained unimpressed.
You smiled.
"He wants outside."
"He was outside this mornin'."
"I know."
Ranger sighed heavily.
The sort of dramatic sigh only dogs could pull off.
You watched him stare through the glass.
Then frowned.
A little.
Because honestly—
You got it.
The apartment wasn't small.
But it wasn't exactly dog paradise either.
Ranger was good about it.
Always had been.
Still.
You found yourself staring out the window too.
At the small shared patch of grass.
At the parking lot.
At the neighboring buildings.
Then:
"You know."
Logan hummed.
You leaned back in your chair.
"I wish Ranger had a yard."
The words came absentmindedly.
Not really directed at anyone.
Just a thought.
"A big one."
Ranger's ears twitched.
Apparently invested in the conversation.
You pointed toward the window.
"Big fence."
"Hm."
"Dog door."
"Hm."
"He could just go outside whenever he wanted."
Logan turned another page.
You continued anyway.
Because apparently you had opinions.
"Could sit in the sun."
"Hm."
"Chase squirrels."
That finally got Logan's attention.
The book lowered slightly.
"Squirrels."
"Yeah."
Logan considered this.
Very seriously.
Like squirrels were a major factor in real estate decisions.
Maybe they were.
You weren't actually sure.
Then:
"Okay."
You blinked.
Once.
"What."
Logan turned another page.
Completely calm.
"Let's do it."
You stared.
The words took a second to process.
Then:
"Do what."
"Get a house."
You barked out a laugh.
Immediately.
The kind that escaped before you could stop it.
Logan looked up.
Confused.
"What."
"You can't just say that."
"Why not."
"Because normal people discuss buying houses."
"We are discussin' it."
You pointed at him.
Immediately.
"No. This isn't discussing. This is you deciding."
Logan shrugged.
The motion infuriatingly casual.
"We got money."
You opened your mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
Unfortunately he wasn't wrong.
The realization irritated you.
A lot.
"That's not the point."
"Then what's the point."
You glared.
Logan returned to his book.
Apparently victorious.
Across the room Ranger sneezed.
The traitor.
You rolled your chair back.
Turning away from your computer.
"Where exactly are we getting this magical house."
Logan turned another page.
"Dunno."
"Helpful."
"Hm."
You threw a stress ball at him.
It bounced harmlessly off his shoulder.
He didn't even look up.
The bastard.
For a while the apartment settled back into comfortable silence.
Your keyboard clicking.
Pages turning.
The hum of the air conditioner.
Normal life.
The sort of afternoon that would've seemed impossible a few months ago.
Then something warm brushed your ankle.
You looked down.
Ranger.
The dog had abandoned the window.
Now he sat beside your desk.
Looking up expectantly.
You scratched behind one ear.
Immediately.
The tail started wagging.
The sight made you smile.
Then glance toward the window again.
Toward the narrow strip of grass outside.
Toward the apartment complex.
The parking lot.
The buildings.
And despite yourself—
You found yourself imagining it.
A yard.
A porch.
A fence.
Maybe one of those old southern houses scattered around town.
The kind with wraparound porches and oak trees.
The kind that creaked when it rained.
The kind people stayed in for decades.
The image settled somewhere warm in your chest.
Dangerously warm.
Because suddenly it didn't feel impossible.
You looked toward Logan.
The bastard was still reading.
Like he hadn't just casually altered the trajectory of your entire life.
"You're serious."
Logan looked up.
Finally.
The glasses still perched on his nose.
The book still open.
Completely calm.
"Yeah."
The answer came simple.
Matter-of-fact.
Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Not someday.
Not eventually.
Not maybe.
Yeah.
The realization settled heavily.
Warm.
Terrifying.
Wonderful.
Across the room Ranger rolled onto his back.
Completely unaware he'd apparently become the deciding factor in a major life decision.
Lucky dog.
The conversation about the house lingered through dinner.
Not seriously.
Not planning spreadsheets and budgets seriously.
More in the way people talked about things they secretly wanted.
The kind of conversations that started as jokes and slowly stopped sounding like jokes.
You made dinner.
Logan washed dishes.
Or more accurately stood at the sink and grumbled about washing dishes while washing dishes.
Ranger supervised.
A critical role.
Apparently.
By the time the sun started slipping lower, the apartment had taken on that warm evening glow.
Golden light through the windows.
Long shadows across the floor.
The sort of light that made everything feel softer.
Calmer.
After dinner Ranger got his walk.
The three of you wandered through town without much destination in mind.
Past familiar houses.
Past the little park.
Past old porches with people sitting outside enjoying the weather.
Small town life.
The kind you'd spent most of your life trying to leave.
Funny how things changed.
Ranger sniffed every mailbox.
Every bush.
Every tree.
Every blade of grass.
The dog treated each walk like a detailed forensic investigation.
Logan remained patient somehow.
You wouldn't have been.
Eventually darkness settled in.
The air cooling.
Crickets starting up.
The familiar rhythm of evening.
By the time you got home Ranger was exhausted.
The dog made one lap around the apartment.
Drank half a bowl of water.
Then dramatically collapsed into his dog bed.
Done for the night.
Lucky bastard.
You showered first.
Then Logan.
The apartment settling into nighttime around you.
The television murmuring quietly in the background.
Water running.
Floorboards creaking.
Normal sounds.
Safe sounds.
Home sounds.
When Logan finally emerged from the bathroom, hair still damp, you were already buried beneath the blankets.
Half asleep.
At least until he climbed into bed beside you.
The mattress shifted.
Warmth settling beside you.
Comfortably familiar.
You rolled over immediately.
Logan sighed.
The sound deeply suspicious.
"What."
"Nothin'."
"Liar."
You poked him.
Directly in the ribs.
The mistake became apparent immediately.
Logan grabbed your wrist.
Not hard.
Just enough.
The warning came too late.
You already knew that look.
"Oh no."
"Oh yeah."
The next thirty seconds devolved completely.
You tried escaping.
Failed.
Spectacularly.
The blanket ended up halfway on the floor.
A pillow narrowly avoided death.
At one point Logan physically lifted you away from your escape route.
Cheating.
Blatant cheating.
You informed him of this.
Repeatedly.
He remained unmoved.
Eventually you managed to shove him backward.
A small victory.
Brief.
Because Logan immediately grabbed a pillow.
Your eyes narrowed.
Dangerously.
"No."
The pillow hit you square in the face.
The war resumed.
For approximately another minute.
Then both of you ended up laughing too hard to continue.
The fight dying from mutual exhaustion.
You collapsed against the mattress.
Out of breath.
Logan beside you.
Equally defeated.
The room gradually settled.
Dark.
Quiet.
Peaceful.
The apartment wrapping around both of you.
Safe.
A place untouched by bunkers.
Untouched by creeks.
Untouched by everything else.
For a while neither of you spoke.
Then:
"You were serious."
Logan glanced over.
"Hm?"
"The house."
A pause.
Then:
"Yeah."
Simple.
Like before.
Like it was obvious.
You stared up at the ceiling.
Listening to Ranger snore softly from across the room.
The familiar sound oddly comforting.
Then:
"You know that'd be permanent, right?"
The words came quieter.
More honest.
Logan was silent for a moment.
Thinking.
Then:
"Hope so."
Something warm settled in your chest.
The kind that hurt a little.
Not because it was bad.
Because it wasn't.
Because it was good.
And good things still scared you sometimes.
You shifted closer.
Almost automatically.
Logan immediately opened an arm for you.
Also automatic.
The motion practiced now.
Familiar.
Like neither of you had to think about it anymore.
You settled against him.
Listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
The slow rise and fall of his breathing.
Outside, somewhere beyond the apartment windows, the town carried on.
Cars passing.
Crickets singing.
Somebody's television faintly audible through an open window.
Life.
Ordinary life.
The thing both of you had nearly lost more than once.
For a while neither of you moved.
The apartment remained quiet.
Ranger snored softly from his dog bed.
The air conditioner hummed.
The kind of ordinary sounds that had become precious.
Then Logan nudged your shoulder.
Lightly.
A mistake.
You immediately grabbed his wrist.
The wrestling resumed.
Less serious this time.
More stubborn than anything.
You tried pinning him.
Failed.
Spectacularly.
The bastard barely seemed to be trying.
Every time you thought you'd gained an advantage, Logan shifted his weight and the entire situation somehow reversed itself.
Cheating.
Probably.
You informed him of this.
Repeatedly.
He looked entirely unconcerned.
"You're impossible."
"Hm."
"You are."
"Hm."
Infuriating.
You shoved at his shoulder.
Logan caught your wrist easily.
Not hard.
Never hard.
Just enough.
The motion should've been frustrating.
Instead it made something warm settle low in your chest.
Because you knew exactly how much strength sat behind that casual grip.
You'd seen it.
You'd lived through it.
And somehow it was always startling to realize how careful he was with you.
Always.
Even now.
Especially now.
The wrestling gradually slowed.
The energy bleeding out of it.
Neither of you quite willing to stop.
Neither of you really trying to win anymore.
Eventually you ended up half sprawled across him.
Breathing a little harder than before.
Logan's hand resting loosely against your side.
The room felt smaller somehow.
Quieter.
The distance between you disappearing naturally.
You looked down.
Logan looked back.
The stubborn amusement slowly fading from his expression.
Something softer taking its place.
The change always caught you off guard.
Because for all the stories people told about Wolverine—
For all the things he could be—
This version belonged only to you.
The version nobody else got to see.
The one that relaxed.
The one that smiled.
The one that looked at you like you'd somehow become the safest thing in his world.
You reached for him.
Logan immediately leaned into the touch.
Instinctively.
Trusting.
The movement so automatic neither of you seemed to think about it anymore.
Your fingers traced his cheek.
Logan leaned into the touch, a deep rumble purring in his chest.
You loved when he turned soft.
Melted under your fingers.
His eyes held an unnamable amount of affection.
Something warm.
Steady.
The kind that still caught you off guard sometimes.
You leaned forward and kissed him.
He met your lips eagerly—tenderly, slow.
Not desperate.
Not hurried.
Just present.
The way he always was with you.
You pulled back to look at him in the low light.
Then your fingers traced his jaw.
His bottom lip.
The look in his eyes was dark.
Wanting.
Your index and middle finger brushed his lower lip.
His breath caught.
Interesting.
His mouth was slightly open.
His eyes flicked down to your fingers-
then met your gaze again.
God.
This was so sinful.
Wolverine below you.
Wanting.
Pliable.
The same man who could tear through steel like paper.
The same man who had survived things that should have killed him a hundred times over.
And somehow he always softened for you.
Eventually he tilted his head down slightly.
He pressed a soft kiss to your fingertips.
The gesture was almost unbearably gentle.
Then his mouth opened.
Taking your fingers in very carefully.
His eyes never left yours.
Fuck.
His mouth was warm.
Wet.
He gently lapped at your fingers-
then took them deeper-
his tongue splitting them.
The eye contact nearly did you in.
Like he knew exactly what he was doing.
Like he was watching every reaction.
Every tiny shift in your expression.
He was seeing if this was something you'd be open to.
Fuck.
You felt the content rumble in his chest rattle through you.
The fucker was purring.
Actually purring.
The sound vibrated against your skin.
Low.
Content.
Happy.
You immediately felt heat coil low in your stomach.
Your body responding before your brain could catch up.
God yes.
You wanted it.
Wanted him.
But...
The familiar shame crept in too.
The dysphoria.
Sharp and ugly and stubborn.
Not because of Logan.
Never because of him.
Logan had never once looked at you the way you feared other people would.
Never once made you feel like you had to explain yourself.
Never once hesitated.
The discomfort lived entirely inside your own head.
And some days it was easier to ignore than others.
When you met his eyes again-
a dark flush had started working its way down his face, neck, and chest.
Your stomach flipped.
God.
He could probably smell how worked up you were.
Well.
Not probably.
He absolutely could.
The realization was mortifying.
You felt your face heat immediately.
But there was something relieving about it too.
At least you didn't have to say it out loud.
At least with Logan, there was never any pretending.
Never any guessing.
He already knew.
Eventually, you got a little braver.
You pushed your fingers into his mouth more.
Deeper.
Logan groaned, low and deep.
Then immediately split your fingers again with his tongue.
God.
You'd never let anyone do this.
Never let them do it anywhere else, either.
But suddenly...
You really wanted Logan to.
And judging by the dark look in his eyes, Logan was praying you'd let him.
The realization sent heat flooding through you.
Not fear.
Not quite.
Something softer.
Something terrifying in a completely different way.
Trust.
You felt his hips shift gently beneath you.
He was already hard.
And the thing was—
If you told him to stop right now, he would.
Immediately.
He wouldn't shame you.
Wouldn't pressure you.
Wouldn't even look disappointed.
He'd say okay.
He'd kiss you.
Pull you against his chest.
Cuddle you like normal.
Sleep beside you like normal.
The certainty of that settled somewhere deep inside your ribs.
Some part of you was still worried.
Your body was different.
Different than what most people expected.
Different than what you wished it was some days.
The familiar knot of dysphoria lingered at the edges of everything.
Not because of Logan.
Never because of him.
But with the way he was looking at you—
With the way he'd been so patient through every awkward conversation, every bad day, every moment you couldn't explain—
The other part of you said you had nothing to worry about.
That was what made the choice.
You met his eyes.
The heat there.
The want.
And you nodded.
Subtle.
Asking him not to make you use words.
Not for this.
Not right now.
Logan's expression shifted.
Something soft.
And something absolutely feral.
The combination made your stomach flip.
He pulled back from your fingers with a quiet pop.
His eyes never left yours.
He looked like he might speak.
Like he wanted to ask.
Wanted to check.
But something on your face must have told him words weren't happening tonight.
Not for this.
Not yet.
So instead he just held your gaze.
Checking.
Always checking.
Making sure.
Then his hands settled on your thighs.
Warm.
Steady.
Soothing.
You buried your face in his neck, planting kisses there.
The familiar scent of him wrapped around you.
Safe.
Logan shifted beneath you.
A quiet sound leaving him.
Then—
His fingers hooked into your waistband.
Slowly.
Giving you time.
Giving you every opportunity to stop him.
You didn't.
Instead, you slipped out of them yourself.
The choice yours.
Always yours.
Logan's hand immediately found you through your boxers.
His thumb moving in slow circles.
Patient.
Deliberate.
Like he was trying to memorize every reaction.
Every breath.
Every tiny movement.
He groaned.
The sound rough enough to make your face burn.
You shifted closer for a second.
Your fingers hooking into his waistband.
He lifted his hips without question, letting you tug them down.
He quirked a brow when you took his boxers down too.
Then nudged your hand away when you reached for his cock.
Stubborn fucker.
"Hey. Let me take my time. You're sensitive tonight."
Mortifying.
Absolutely mortifying.
Your entire face heated instantly.
You shot him a glare that would've killed a normal person.
Logan chuckled.
The bastard.
You weren't a patient person.
Not usually.
Especially not with the way the blush was creeping down his neck.
But for this—
For Logan—
You could try.
His free hand kneaded into your thigh.
Slowly.
Almost possessively.
Finding the muscle there.
Tracing it.
Grounding you.
Keeping you present.
You bent down and caught his lips.
He groaned into the kiss.
Needy.
God, he was needy.
And he still wouldn't let you touch him.
Such a tease.
Your fingers slid beneath his shirt instead.
Feeling the warmth of his skin.
The rise and fall of his breathing.
Feeling those breaths grow shallower.
He only took his hands off you long enough to shrug the shirt over his head and toss it onto the floor.
Then his fingers hooked into your waistband again.
Paused.
His eyes met yours.
A silent question.
The same one he'd been asking all night.
Are you okay?
Do you want this?
Do you want to keep going?
The answer was obvious.
You just couldn't find the words for it.
So you nodded.
Shifting your weight.
Logan pulled them down one leg.
Then the other.
Until they joined his shirt on the floor.
His hands returned to your thighs immediately.
Like he couldn't stand not touching you.
He caught your lips again.
This time deeper.
More wanting.
More certain.
His mouth moved to your neck.
Lingering there.
The attention making your pulse jump.
His fingers tightened briefly against your hips.
Keeping you where you were.
Preventing you from frotting against him.
Then the hold changed.
Subtly.
And he gently tugged forward.
Your face immediately went nuclear.
Mortified.
Absolutely mortified.
Because you knew exactly what he was asking.
And suddenly looking him in the eye felt impossible.
You buried your face in his neck.
Nope.
Couldn't do it.
Not right now.
Logan chuckled softly.
The vibration rolling through his chest.
Patient.
Warm.
After a moment—
"It's okay if—"
"No."
The answer came out before you could stop it.
Words.
Finally.
You swallowed.
Hard.
"I—I want it."
The confession made your face burn hotter somehow.
But this was Logan.
Safe.
Always safe.
Logan made a quiet, content noise.
The kind that settled straight into your chest.
"S'okay."
His hand slid slowly up your back.
Comforting.
Steady.
"Take your time."
A pause.
Then softer:
"I'm not goin' anywhere.”
It took a second to steel your nerves, but once you got them under control, you kissed his neck again.
Then nipped.
Then bit.
Bravery came in the form of the little sounds Logan let slip between breaths.
Tiny things. Barely audible.
But you felt every one of them.
Your hand moved up his chest, fingers appreciating the thick hair.
Feeling his heart beat.
Faster now.
Faster every time you sucked a bruise into his neck that would fade instantly.
His hands remained on your hips.
Not forcing anything.
Not demanding.
Just preventing you from grinding on him.
You unconsciously tried once.
Logan adjusted his grip to catch it, chuckling low in his chest.
The sound made heat crawl up your neck.
Then one hand gently stroked between your legs.
Logan made appreciative sounds at how worked up you were.
At the mess.
You knew he could sense it.
But the physical evidence always affected him more.
Always seemed to make something soften in his expression.
And-
Fuck, his hand felt good.
Eventually—
His free hand found one of yours.
Brought it to his lips.
Lapped at your fingers, then wrapped his lips around them.
Pulled back briefly-
"We can stay right here if you want—"
Then took your fingers back down again.
God.
Fuck.
His mouth felt good.
Too good.
Feeling his tongue lap at your fingers and grinding down against his hand was soul-crushing.
You couldn't take it anymore.
Needed his mouth on you.
You pulled your fingers free from his mouth.
Selfishly stroked yourself with his spit.
God.
It felt good.
Warm.
Wet.
Logan.
Logan answered with a dark groan that vibrated against you.
This time his voice dripped with want.
"Let me—please."
The request wasn't demanding.
If anything, it sounded rough around the edges.
Like he was trying very hard to be patient.
Fuck.
How could you say no when he asked so prettily?
"I'm not... too heavy?"
His expression went flat for a moment.
Like the answer was obvious.
He quirked a brow at you.
Right.
He's survived worse.
You scooted a bit forward.
Just enough to straddle his chest.
Logan met your gaze.
Checking.
Making sure.
Then he kissed your stomach.
His fingers soothed up your sides, then kneaded into your hips and thighs.
Steadying.
Grounding.
Like he knew you needed it.
He kissed down your happy trail.
Fuck.
His mouth was so close you could feel his breath.
Your pulse jumped.
Then his eyes met yours.
He leaned back.
Comfortable.
Asking.
Giving you the choice.
You scooted forward more.
Logan hummed approval.
Hands steadying your thighs.
Eyes filled with desire.
Want.
Affection.
The last one hit harder than the others.
He kissed right above your cock.
Then—
He lapped a path upward.
Fuck.
Your knees buckled.
Logan hummed in satisfaction.
Amused.
Like he enjoyed seeing what he did to you.
His tongue gently traced underneath.
Sensitive.
"Fuck—Logan—"
Then he closed his lips around you, gentle and unhurried.
God, that nearly did you in.
So warm.
Logan absolutely pliant underneath you.
Completely at ease.
Like there was nowhere else he'd rather be.
Your hands gripped the headboard as he sucked you off—
At first, you were careful not to actually put any weight on him—
But then his hands on your hips pulled you down.
Strong enough you couldn't counter it.
He pulled you down so he could lap into you properly now.
Fuck.
Thoughts already hazy.
One hand went to his hair, fingers threading in the strands.
Logan hummed approval against you.
God.
The sound vibrated straight through you.
"Fuck—your mouth feels so good."
Logan groaned, tongue lapping the underside of your cock again—then your entrance.
Fuck.
Your grip tightened against the headboard.
Then his mouth returned to your cock as he pushed two fingers gently inside you.
Your legs buckled.
Logan groaned.
A tremble shot through you.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck.
You couldn't help but grind into his mouth.
Onto his fingers.
"Ah—Logan."
His free hand soothed your side.
Encouraging.
Patient.
Like he was content to take whatever you gave him.
Your fucking Wolverine underneath you.
Taking what you'd give him.
Pliantly submissive.
His chest vibrating with wanting groans.
The realization made heat rush through you all over again.
His fingers kept steadily stroking the spot inside you that made your thighs tense up.
Every touch pulling another helpless reaction from you.
Eventually thoughts scattered.
All you could do was thrust into his wanting mouth.
Everything else had long since stopped mattering.
You chanced a glance down-
You can't remember if your dick's ever been this hard.
And God—
You can't remember Logan being this pretty.
Eyes dark.
Looking up at you like that.
The orgasm hit hard.
Fuck.
Can't believe you're coming in his mouth.
Logan continued eagerly, letting you ride the high out.
His fingers continued—
Milking the orgasm for as long as your body would let him.
Then overstimulation hit.
You backed off, panting hard.
Chest rising and falling.
Legs trembling hard against him.
Logan chuckled.
The sound was rough around the edges.
Satisfied.
You scooted halfway down, straddling his stomach now.
Thoughts still scattered.
You leaned down, resting your head against his neck for a moment.
Trying to remember how to breathe.
"Fuck," you groaned.
Logan soothing your trembling legs.
"Attaboy."
His voice rough.
Affected.
The praise settled warm in your chest.
You kissed his neck appreciatively.
The haze settling.
Then you sat up.
Reached behind you-
Holy fuck.
His cock was soaked.
Dripping with precum.
He was that worked up just from sucking you off?
The realization sent another rush of desire through you.
And God.
Desire was gorgeous on him.
His eyes dark in the low light.
His breaths shallow.
Affected.
Voice rough.
And you'd only just now touched him.
"Logan."
"Hm?"
"Want your come in me?"
"Fuck yes."
The answer came instantly.
Like he'd been waiting for you to ask.
His eyes caught yours.
Melting under you being confident.
The haze gave you confidence.
This time you lifted a brow at him expectedly.
He immediately knew.
"Please," he asked.
So pretty.
The word hit harder than it should have.
You hummed.
Then straddled him.
Frotting against the underside of his cock now.
You almost wanted to grind on him till he blew his own load onto his stomach.
The thought alone nearly made you laugh.
But not this time.
You loved how he just sat and took all the teasing.
Never pushing.
Never demanding.
Just letting you have your fun.
Eventually you decided he'd had enough and, gently guiding him inside you—
You sat down in one motion.
Replicating how Logan usually sheathed in one thrust.
"Fuck."
This time it was Logan cussing.
Good.
His head tipped back slightly.
Eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment.
His hands held onto your hips but didn't push.
He let you set the pace.
Enjoying everything you'd give him.
You settled your hands on his chest.
Leaning slightly down, you grinded against him.
Logan's breath caught.
His hands wandered further up your sides.
Appreciating your hips.
Fingers on one side lightly tracing the scars that had started to form-
The touch was careful.
Reverent.
Like he still couldn't quite believe he was allowed.
You'd forgiven him the exact moment it happened.
The moment the pain shot through you.
The moment blood started running down your side.
Never had a second thought.
Still hadn't.
"Christ, I love you."
Logan let it slip out.
Like it wasn't something he'd meant to say aloud.
You only paused briefly.
Then—
You leaned down.
"I love you too."
And met his lips.
The answer came easy.
Instinctive.
True.
Logan groaned.
Deep.
Rough.
His eyes fluttered shut.
Arms immediately wrapping around you.
Pulling you against his chest.
Holding you there for a moment like he couldn't get close enough.
Then adjusting the angle so he could thrust up into you.
And fuck.
That was a good angle.
The sudden movement pulled a sharp gasp from you.
Logan groaned.
Affected.
His breaths coming fast.
Shallow.
Like he was losing his composure by the second.
And judging by the look on his face—
He knew it too.
Your mouth stayed close to his neck.
Kissing whenever the haze settled enough to allow it.
Like you couldn't help yourself.
Like you always found your way back to him.
Like a compass needle finding north.
Your nails dug into his shoulders every time a harder thrust jolted you.
And Logan.
God.
He was making such pretty noises.
The kind you wished you could bottle up and keep.
The kind that settled deep in your ribs and stayed there.
His usually gruff groans gone lighter.
Less guarded.
Like pieces of himself slipping free.
You couldn't get enough of him.
It felt less like love and more like hunger.
The sort that never intended to be satisfied.
But.
Overstimulation was starting to catch up to you.
Your body growing sensitive.
Your thoughts blurring around the edges.
And yet-
You didn't want to stop hearing those noises.
So you endured it—
And eventually the feeling settled into something deeper.
Dark heat pooling in your gut.
Muscles clenching around Logan—
The impending orgasm.
Like storm clouds gathering on the horizon.
Like something inevitable.
Your hands began grasping for purchase.
Logan adjusted.
Wrapping his arms around you as well as both your arms at your sides.
Keeping you still.
Like he'd recognized what was happening before you did.
Fuck.
It always felt more intense when he restricted your movement.
All you could do was sit and feel it.
There was nowhere to run from it.
Nowhere to hide.
Every thrust.
Every wet glide.
Every button push.
Logan's groans deepened once you started clenching around him.
The sound rougher now.
Needier.
Ancient.
Predatory.
The sort of sound that should have sent prey running.
Instead it only made you want him closer.
The instinctual side of him telling him to come in you.
Then—
Logan flipped you.
Your thighs still straddling his hips—
He didn't let you go enough to disconnect.
The movement was smooth.
Certain.
Like gravity deciding where you belonged.
The world tilted and you ended up on your back—
Logan above you.
Leaning over you.
Fingers gripping into the backs of your thighs.
Pushing them up a bit.
Good angle.
The look on his face said he knew it too.
It was a lot deeper like this—
Logan carefully managing his weight to get as deep inside you as possible.
Always careful.
Even now.
As dangerous as he was, he'd always handled you like something precious.
Your hands gripped hard on his shoulders—arms—anywhere you could find.
Needing something to hold onto.
You ignored the noises he was fucking out of you.
Ignored how wrecked you sounded.
He leaned down.
Close to your ear.
"Just a little more, okay?"
His voice sounded strained.
Like he was hanging on by a thread himself.
He met your eyes—
You nodded.
Then he caught your lips.
Gentle at first but turning as desperate as his thrusts were.
Like neither of you could get close enough.
Like your bodies were trying to solve a problem neither of them understood.
Then he nudged your head to the side—
Teeth finding your neck—hard.
The pressure sent heat down your spine.
A mark.
A claim.
A prayer.
"Fuck Logan."
The words barely made it out.
The haze swallowed you.
Everything narrowing.
Like sinking beneath dark water.
Like being willingly dragged beneath something vast and hungry.
All you knew was that Logan's thighs were shaking almost as much as yours.
And somehow that made it worse.
Better.
It made something possessive unfurl in your chest.
He continued thrusting—
Letting you ride the high out again.
Not rushing you.
Even after coming he was reluctant to separate from you—
Instead—
His arms gripped around you again and flipped back to how you were before.
Logan on his back and you above him.
He kept a stern grip on your thighs.
Not letting you get off of him-
Holding you down as flush as he could.
Possessive.
Reluctant.
As though separation itself offended him.
You realized why once you felt him pulse-
Fucker was still pumping his load into you.
The realization made you laugh weakly under your breath.
Fond.
Affectionate.
You leaned down and laid on top of him.
Content to stay there.
The fullness felt biblical.
Like standing inside a cathedral and realizing something was listening back.
For a moment neither of you moved.
Just breathing.
Just existing in the wreckage of it.
You nuzzled against his neck.
Planting gentle kisses that coaxed little moans out of him.
Each one softer than the last.
Like a dangerous animal finally settling.
"God you're pretty," you finally said.
The words slipped out before you could stop them.
It was true.
Beautiful in the way storms were beautiful.
Beautiful in the way wild things were.
Logan smirked.
The expression small but unmistakable.
Hands pulling your hips against him a little tighter.
Like he wasn't quite ready to remember where he ended and you began.
Neither of you moved.
The room had gone quiet save for the sound of breathing.
Your head rested against his chest.
His heartbeat was finally beginning to slow.
Steady beneath your ear.
Steady enough to lull you toward sleep.
For the first time in what felt like hours, there was no urgency.
No hunger.
No grasping need.
Just warmth.
Logan's hand drifted up your back.
Slow.
Mindless.
The kind of touch someone gave without realizing they were doing it.
Following the curve of your spine.
Making sure you were still there.
You pressed a lazy kiss against his neck.
Logan hummed.
The sound low and content.
For a few minutes neither of you spoke.
You simply existed together.
The storm had passed.
Only the aftermath remained.
A quiet sort of peace settling over the room.
Eventually Logan shifted beneath you.
Not enough to dislodge you.
Just enough to glance at the clock.
"You gonna fall asleep on me, sweetheart?"
His voice came out rough with exhaustion.
You groaned in response.
Making no effort whatsoever to move.
Logan chuckled.
His chest vibrating beneath your cheek.
"Thought so."
One more minute turned into five.
Maybe longer.
Neither of you seemed particularly interested in being the first one to break contact.
Eventually Logan sighed.
Reluctantly.
Like a man being forced to abandon a perfectly good nap.
"C'mon."
His hand squeezed your side.
"Gotta get cleaned up."
You made a noise of protest.
Logan ignored it.
Naturally.
Carefully, he helped you sit up.
Making sure you were steady before standing himself.
The room felt cooler without him.
You immediately disliked it.
Logan disappeared into the bathroom.
You heard running water.
Cabinet doors opening.
Closing.
A moment later he returned with a warm washcloth.
The sight alone made something soft settle in your chest.
No hesitation.
No awkwardness.
Just Logan.
Taking care of you like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He cleaned you up first.
Gentle.
Thorough.
Patient.
The same hands capable of tearing through steel treating you like something fragile.
Something worth protecting.
Once he was satisfied you were comfortable, he took care of himself.
The mattress dipped as he climbed back into bed.
You immediately moved toward him.
Pure instinct.
Logan opened an arm before you'd even settled.
Already expecting it.
Already making room.
You tucked yourself against his side.
Head finding its usual spot.
Logan pulled the blankets up around both of you.
The room dark and quiet once more.
For a while he simply held you.
His fingers tracing slow patterns against your arm.
Sleep tugged heavily at your eyelids.
But one thought lingered.
You stared at the darkness beyond the bed.
"I feel bad."
The words came quietly.
Logan's hand paused.
Then resumed.
Slow.
Steady.
"About what?"
You swallowed.
Suddenly feeling ridiculous.
"Enjoying it."
Silence.
You picked at a loose thread on the blanket.
Unable to look at him.
"All of it."
For a moment Logan didn't answer.
You could practically feel him looking at you.
Then—
"Hey."
His voice was gentle.
The single word made you finally glance up.
Logan was already watching you.
Expression soft.
Patient.
Like he was trying to figure out who had put that thought in your head.
"You're allowed to enjoy feeling loved."
The words hit harder than they should have.
You looked away again.
"But—"
"No."
His hand slid up your back.
Warm.
Steady.
"None of that."
The answer came immediately.
Certain.
Like the idea itself irritated him.
"You hear me?"
You swallowed.
Nodded.
Logan reached up and nudged your chin until you looked at him again.
"You're allowed to enjoy it."
His thumb brushed your cheek.
"You don't gotta earn every damn thing."
The knot in your chest tightened.
Then loosened.
Just a little.
Logan leaned down and pressed a kiss against your forehead.
Brief.
Affectionate.
"Let me love you."
His arm tightened around you.
Keeping you tucked firmly against his side.
Like he wasn't going to let you run from the conversation.
Or from him.
For a while neither of you spoke.
The room settled around you.
Dark.
Quiet.
Safe.
Logan's arm remained wrapped around your waist.
Heavy.
Comforting.
But the knot in your chest hadn't fully disappeared.
You shifted.
Logan made a questioning noise.
You ignored it.
Carefully untangling yourself from his hold.
His brow furrowed immediately.
"Where you goin'?"
You didn't answer.
Just nudged at his shoulder.
"Turn over."
The confusion on his face was immediate.
Almost suspicious.
"Why?"
"Just do it."
Logan stared at you for a second.
Then huffed.
Rolling onto his side.
The mattress shifted beneath his weight.
You immediately moved in behind him.
Sliding an arm around his waist.
Pressing your chest against his back.
For a moment Logan went completely still.
Caught off guard.
The man could throw trucks.
Fight armies.
Stare down monsters without blinking.
But apparently being spooned short-circuited him.
You tucked your face between his shoulder blades.
Breathing him in.
The familiar scent settled something restless inside you.
"There."
Logan snorted.
"There?"
You squeezed him slightly.
"There."
His shoulders shook with quiet laughter.
The sound warm.
Sleepy.
You felt him relax little by little.
Muscles loosening beneath your arm.
The hard edges softening.
It always surprised you.
How different he felt like this.
Most people saw claws.
The violence.
They never saw this.
Never saw the way he melted when someone held him.
Never saw how touch turned him soft.
How desperately he pretended not to need it.
Your thumb brushed back and forth across his stomach.
Mindless.
Comforting.
Logan covered your hand with his own.
Holding it there.
Neither of you spoke for a while.
The silence felt nice.
Until—
"I hate thinking about it."
The words slipped out before you could stop them.
Logan stiffened slightly.
"What?"
You stared at the broad line of his shoulders.
The way your arm disappeared around his waist.
"Sometimes."
You swallowed.
"How different everything would've been. Easier."
Logan didn't answer.
Just listened.
You appreciated that about him.
He never rushed you.
Never forced the words out.
"Sometimes I wish..." You sighed. "I don't know."
The admission felt pathetic.
"Wish I had been born right."
The room stayed quiet.
Logan's hand squeezed yours.
Once.
Firm.
Grounding.
You buried your face deeper against his back.
Embarrassed.
"I know it's stupid."
"It ain't."
The answer came immediately.
You closed your eyes.
"It feels stupid."
Logan was quiet for a moment.
Then shifted just enough to glance back at you over his shoulder.
Eyes soft in the darkness.
"You're allowed to be frustrated."
His thumb rubbed over your knuckles.
Slow.
Steady.
"But don't sit there and convince yourself you're less because of it."
Something in your chest tightened.
You looked away.
Logan caught that immediately.
Of course he did.
"You hear me?"
His voice had gone firmer now.
Not angry.
Just certain.
Like he needed you to understand.
You nodded.
Logan looked unconvinced.
He poked your arm.
"You hear me?"
A reluctant laugh escaped you.
"Yeah."
"Good."
Satisfied, Logan settled back down.
You felt him relax again beneath your arm.
The tension leaving him.
Eventually he reached back and blindly found your hand.
Intertwining your fingers.
Keeping them there.
For all his talk.
For all his gruffness.
He clearly wasn't letting go anytime soon.
A smile tugged at your mouth.
You pressed one last kiss between his shoulders.
Logan hummed.
Content.
Half asleep already.
And sometime after that—
With your arm still wrapped around him and his fingers still tangled with yours—
Sleep finally found both of you.