Ororo just finished putting on a hint of perfume behind her ears and at the hollow of her throat when he knocked on her door. Anna looked up from her magazine where she was waiting on the couch. Her face was smug. She winked at Ororo and told her, “Right on the dot. Knows how ta make an impression.”
“He is a broker,” Ororo reminded her just as smugly, but strangely, her stomach was full of butterflies. This was unfamiliar territory. He was meeting her where she lived “ literally “ and he would see a snapshot of who she was away from work, the space where she lounged in ugly pajamas and stole sips of milk straight from the carton (sorry, Anna). She mentally asked herself if she took down the pantyhose from the showerhead. Anna had helped her freshen up the apartment, since Remy mentioned that he might “stop by” while Ororo was out. That they “might watch some Netflix” and just stay in for the night.
It wasn’t a big deal, she reminded herself. She’d seen Logan’s old place in New York. It was cozy, and she was comfortable occupying that space with him. Why should this be any different? He’d even helped her move out, for crying out loud…
She wondered if that fed her nervousness, somehow. She wondered what he was thinking. If this was going to put a weird spin on things for him, remembering the negatives of why she left, instead of trying to move forward. Her heels scuffed across the carpet as she went to answer the door. “Who is it?”
“Who do ya want me ta be?” came the snarky response, delivered in that deep, scratchy voice that she loved.
“I have options?” she teased as she unlocked the dead bolts and chain, after a peremptory glance through the peep hole, and she felt her breath catch.
“Wow,” she breathed. He was damned handsome after a fresh haircut and a trim of his sideburns, his sharp jawline clean-shaven and smooth. He wore a black silk suit and silver Rolex, a high shine on his Stacy Adams shoes. Ororo felt herself grow warm at the look in his dark eyes as they roved over her from head to toe. Logan held out a bouquet of white and pink roses. “Evenin’, Miss Munroe.”
“Good evening, sir,” she countered. Their fingertips brushed when she took the flowers. “Please, come in.” She stepped aside to usher him, accepting his little nod, and so help her, his expression… he looked hungry. Little shivers of anticipation ran down her arms. “You look nice, Mr. Howlett.”
“Ya’ve got a silver tongue. Do ya butter up everyone when ya first meet ‘em, darlin’?”
“Me? Never,” she assured him.
From the living room, Anna suppressed a chuckle until they both walked in, and then she gave a low wolf whistle.
“Mmnh,” she tsked. “Oughta be arrested, shoog, comin’ up in here looking like that. It’s illegal ta go around givin’ women heart attacks.”
“Anna, do we still have that vase?”
“Blue one? Lemme get it,” Anna offered, and she hopped up from the couch and took the flowers with a jealous little gleam in her eyes. “Must be nice,” she muttered.
“Hush,” Ororo hissed under her breath. Logan and Ororo shared a look as she darted out of the room.
“You kept yer promise.” His voice was thick with want, his breath warm as it misted over her fingers when he kissed her knuckles. “That’s some dress.”
She restrained the urge to tell him This old rag? The way he was staring at her was a compliment on its own, and she wanted to enjoy it. Accept it. “Glad you like it.”
“Are we ready?”
“Ready, Freddie.”
Anna returned with the flowers in their new home, setting the vase on the coffee table. “Now Ah can show Remy how it’s done,” Anna claimed, winking at them.
“Give ‘im hell, kid.” Logan winked back as he helped Ororo with her jacket.
“Be home by midnight!” Anna called after them. Ororo turned and gave her a sour look that screamed “Yeah, right” as they headed out the door. “Don’t take no wooden nickles!”
“She’s a kick in the pants,” Logan mused when they hit the street. The air was crisp, and a faint breeze stirred Ororo’s hair, making the curling tendrils around her face fly loose.
“That’s Anna.”
When they crossed the street, Logan instinctively took her hand, and by the time they reached the end of the walk light on the opposite corner, she had her arm threaded through his. It felt natural, and his body radiated heat. He was a solid presence against her side, making her feel safe. They descended the stairs to the subway deck, with Logan letting her go through the turnstile first. They huddled close as they waited for the T, and an elderly woman in a heavy coat and wool beanie smiled and nodded at them.
“You’ve got yourself a snappy looking gentleman, you have,” she told Ororo.
“He cleans up nice, doesn’t he?” she agreed.
“Don’t let her out of your sight,” she told Logan.
“Not a chance.”
It warmed her.
“Never again,” he murmured, softly enough that only Ororo heard him.
The next half hour found him courting her. Holding doors. Pulling out chairs and helping her with her court.
“No one’s taken their eyes off of ya since we got here, darlin’,” Logan remarked.
“I think they envy my date,” she countered. This time, Logan was the one who ducked his head and smirked up at her.
“That sounds a lot like flirting, Miss Munroe.”
“Does it? I’m not normally that bold,” Ororo teased back. She sipped from her water glass, and she returned his stare. Before he could reply, their server arrived to take their order. She erred on the side of salad, nodding when asked if she wanted the chicken option. Logan decided on the special, medium rare once the server told him they weren’t allowed to let the steak “moo back at him” when they brought it to the table.
Ororo pulled a face. “You like your meat bloody?”
“There’s no greater injustice than overcooking a steak.”
They ignored their original agreement not to make small talk.
“I got a call from yer old boss today,” Logan mentioned.
“Lucky you.” Ororo’s tone was deadpan as she reached for the bread, spreading the slice with a thin layer of butter.
“Still no love lost?”
“Still no love won. I know you miss Boston, Logan, but there was no keeping me at that branch with her there.”
“Probably coulda made it work…”
“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’ in the word and bit into her roll, chewing with remembered rancor. “There was no making anything work while I was working for her. Any time she called me to her office, I felt like I was being called to the carpet.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Ever feel like no matter what you do for someone, it’s never enough? And, it’s like the whole universe decides that every interaction you have with that person is going to be an awkward mess from the jump?”
“Awkward? For you?” Logan gave her a dubious look.
“Trust me. Remember that visit you made to my office that one time?”
“Ya hafta be more specific.” His expression was devilish. She was distracted for a moment by it, then brought herself back on track.
“Hush. My hair game had been on point before you knocked on my door. She caught me looking like I had a rough night after you left.”
Logan remembered his penchant for taking her hair down and huffed a laugh. “Sorry.”
“You didn’t look sorry.”
“Probably wasn’t then. Kinda hard ta be, though. It’s hard seeing ya all buttoned up, Tory.”
“That’s called ‘civilized and professional.’”
“Nah. That’s called ‘that outfit’s gonna look nice puddled on the floor in the corner.’”
“Anyone ever tell you that you have a one-track mind?”
“Who, me?”
“Yes, you.”
“Perish the thought. My mind is pure as a lamb.”
“Medium rare lamb?”
He snorted into his water glass with that one.
Once their orders came, they ate slowly, lingering over the conversation in the dimly lit setting, low music, chatter and the clinks of silverware against plates surrounding them. Logan declined the server’s offer of wine, not wanting to partake while Ororo had to content herself with fruit juice in a pretty glass.
“Want a bite of my steak, darlin’?”
“The baby is happy with salad. Because the baby wants dessert,” she explained.
“Baby’s got a sweet tooth?”
“Can’t imagine where Baby gets it from.”
“Baby gets what Baby wants.” Logan wanted so badly to place an identity on the person occupying her body. Ororo’s staunch decision not to find out was killing him.
“Baby wants the chocolate mousse.” Their server materialized, smiling and brandishing her scratch pad.
“Did I hear someone say chocolate mousse? It’s excellent here.”
“You heard correctly,” Ororo told her. “Got a craving.”
“I was trying not to ask. Didn’t want to pry, but are you two expecting?”
“We’re both ‘expectin’,’ kid, but she’s the one carrying the baby,” Logan clarified, earning himself the server’s chuckle and Ororo’s facepalm.
“That was awful,” Ororo told him.
“What? It’s accurate, darlin’.”
“Two chocolate mousses?”
“We could get one with two spoons?” he suggested.
“See how much of your hand you come back with if you even try, pal.”
“Right. Make that two mousses, kiddo.”
But to Ororo’s credit, she ate her mousse at a sedate pace, savoring it. Logan raised a brow at the sounds of rapture that she made, though, and she realized that she should probably tone it down.
“This is better than sex.”
“It’s good, but it ain’t that good, darlin’. Nothing’s that good.”
“No, this is pretty good,” she told him, a hint of challenge in her voice.
“That good, huh?”
“Mm-hmmmm,” she hummed as she enveloped the spoon between her lips again, licking a stray bit of chocolate from her bottom one.
Watching her made Logan’s pants feel a bit tight. “I ain’t convinced. It’s decent, at best.”
“You blaspheme, sir. This is an impeccable dessert.” Ororo gently scraped the inner edge of her dessert flute, taking another decadent bite.
“Ya might hafta prove it, Tory. Here. Maybe yers is better than mine.” He scooped up a delicate spoonful and leaned in, holding it out to her. Ororo’s lips twisted.
“You’re sure? They should taste the same.”
“Give it a try. Indulge me.” He teased her with the spoon, and she obliged him, leaning forward and sucking the sweet dollop of chocolate whip from the silver. She licked her lips, and she watched his eyes dilate. “Luscious,” she told him. “Just as good as mine.”
“Sure? Might hafta have you taste-test it again, just in case.”
"I don't know why you doubt my judgment, sir.”
“Indulge me,” he husked. He held out another tempting offering, and he felt heat flood his groin at the sight of those plump, lush lips engulfing the spoon.
“Mmmmmm.”
The sound hit him where he lived. He waved down the server, afraid now to stand up from the table at the risk of revealing his hard-on. “Excuse me. Excuse me, can we go ahead and get the check?”
Ororo’s blue eyes were twinkling as she licked the last of her own mousse off the back of her spoon in long, slow strokes.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d left a restaurant so fast. Logan slapped a generous tip on the table, hustled her into her coat, and laced his fingers through hers, and her long strides matched his easily as they emerged onto the street.
They huddled together on the subway again, this time sitting closer, waiting until the lights went down whenever they entered a dark tunnel before they would kiss, not wanting to give a blatant show. It was difficult. Logan tasted the chocolate on her lips and felt her breathing change, pulse racing beneath his thumb when he caressed her face.
“I’m bringin’ ya home past curfew,” Logan promised in her ear.
“You’ll get me grounded,” Ororo muttered back, lips brushing the crown of his cheek teasingly, and her voice sounded rich and husky and full of mischief. Logan had to have her five minutes ago and was restless to get back to his apartment. Anticipation gave Ororo the jitters.
She was going to his apartment. It was something that lingered in her imagination for weeks. Was he lonely without her? Did he think about her, lying awake in the dark?
They walked who knew how many blocks in the brisk air, and she was regretting her choice of shoes, but Logan murmured “Not much farther, Tory, don’t worry” when they stopped at another crosswalk, and he made her pause for a moment to kiss her, and it was hungry and needy. They both looked annoyed at the blast of a horn from the car waiting on them to cross. Logan flipped him the bird and earned them another honk.
“Asshole,” Logan muttered.
“We were in a hurry, anyway,” Ororo reminded him, taking his arm and enjoying what was left of their walk.
“That’s it up there.” The brownstone was three five stories and had a short flight of stairs out front. Logan held her door and ushered her inside, past the row of metal mail slots and up another two flights of stairs.
“Never considered a place with an elevator?” Ororo suggested.
“Didn’t have much time to find anything with amenities. I was just in a hurry ta get here, darlin’,” he pointed out and she felt a moment of guilt. He caught her expression as he fished in his pocket for his keys. “Sorry. That sounded bad.”
“Not wrong, though.”
“I’ve got a little longer to find something nicer,” Logan told her, and he pulled her to him, stealing a long, hungry kiss, not caring if anyone walked down the hall and caught them. Ororo sighed into his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck.
“Wanna get ya inside. Can’t do that if ya don’t let me get my keys.”
“They’re here in your pocket, aren’t they?”
“Hey!” He swatted at her hands as she tried to “help” him find them. “I can get ‘em.”
She leaned down and kissed him behind his ear, and he growled as he found the jingling ring - finally - and punched the housekey into the knob.
“Yer an evil woman, ya know that?”
They stepped inside the dark front hall, and Logan kicked the door shut behind them, crowding her up against it. He swallowed her chuckle with a hot, draining kiss. Ororo let her purse drop and picked back up where they left off in her office, moving beneath his hands, letting him unbutton her coat. She stepped down out of her heels, grateful for the cool hard wood beneath her stockinged, tortured feet. Logan felt the shift in her height, glad that it reduced the gap between them, and he didn’t care that he’d have to take his blazer to the dry cleaners to have it ironed; it was worth it to feel her peeling it off of him, and her hands roved over him, unbuttoning cuffs and plackets, unzipping his slacks as they slowly wandered down the corridor toward his room. He paused by the couch, leaning her against the arm of it to unzip the fragile, lacy red dress. His hands felt hot on her skin, and he released her hair from the pins holding it back from her face, his favorite thing to do, and his hands framed her face when he kissed her, deep and hot. He lost his undershirt and felt her hands sliding over his muscles, making an undignified sound when she teased his nipple, already pebbled from arousal. He wanted her, God, how he wanted this woman…
He was right. Her dress looked best when it was puddled in the corner, joined by the flimsy pantyhose, lace bra and black satin panties. She backed her way up the mattress, heat in her eyes. “C’mere,” she husked. He dropped his watch onto the side table with a clatter and crawled up to meet her, and his face… the look he gave her undid her completely. He made her meet him halfway, tugging her by the ankle across the sheets and hovering over her.
“Look at you,” he murmured. “So damned fine, darlin’.”
“Missed you,” she insisted, gripping his nape and bringing him down for a hungry, searching kiss.
“Missed you, too. So damned much.”
They lay in a tangle of sheets, taking their time, Ororo’s long limbs wrapped around him and accepting the slow, rutting slide of his body against hers. Her breasts filled his hands, then his mouth, fuller than before, their peaks turgid and inviting. Ororo’s voice rose when he suckled one, and it had been too long that he’d wanted this, craved her. He knew her, knew her responses, what made her gasp and cry out, where to touch to make her squirm against him and plead for more. He loved the sound of his name in that breathy voice she used, loved the way her blue eyes glazed over in lust. He relearned her body and its soft curves and gleaming brown skin, kissing his way down her stomach. He teased her navel, noticing the minute changes. The faint swell of her belly. The dark line leading down from her navel. Her hips, temptingly rounded and more generous than before; more to grab. He felt her fingers slide into his hair, clutching at it when he nuzzled her sex, and he kissed one long, tapering thigh as she parted them for him. Her hips nearly came off the bed at his first taste, and she exhaled a shaky breath. She was surrounded by the masculine trappings of his room, all dark colors and rough textures in the unlit space, no other illumination inside except for the street lamp’s light leaking in through the window blinds. He groaned against her, telegraphing his pleasure as he lapped at her, tongue slick as it parted her folds. She burned at his touch, needing more. He drew it out, feasting on her, fingers plucking at the tiny pearl hidden within. She was a mewling, squirming mess by the time he was finished, climaxing in minutes. Her body was sensitized and easily stimulated during her pregnancy, resulting in some embarrassingly erotic dreams. Logan was feeding them now, giving her fodder for more.
“Dessert wasn’t better than sex,” Logan told her smugly, his face challenging her to argue with him.
“I might need some more convincing,” she told him, reaching for him, and he felt so good beneath her hands. He settled over her, and she gave his ripe, firm ass a squeeze. “These things are better when put into practice than theory, Logan.” He ground his hips down, and she felt how aroused he was, smooth and hard in her grip when she reached down between them.
“I’m gonna convince ya. I’ll take as long as you need until yer convinced, darlin’.” He thrust himself into the ring of her grip, breathing ragged as she tugged on him.
Ororo wanted him so much, and he returned that need, too, if the way he was leaking hot, slick drops that dampened her fingers was any indication. He was beautiful in the dark, broad shoulders tapering down to a toned, narrow waist and hard hips. She leaned up onto her elbows, continuing to kiss him, then sat upright, chuckling at his confusion. “Where ya going, Tory?”
“Nowhere. Just getting a little closer to get at you.”
“Ya are, huh… mmmmmmpph…” Her tongue licked into his mouth, and he submitted to it, felt his world tipped on its ear when she pushed him onto his back. “Okay…” Words fled him as she settled over him, this time, and kissed him senseless, then blazed a trail of kisses down his throat. His fingers tangled in her hair, holding it back from his face as she descended down his body.
He was so beautiful to her, all sculpted, rounded muscles and hard planes, skin slicked with a layer of dark, crisp hair. His face was slack and relaxed, eyes dark with desire for her as he watched her kiss a path down his ribs, to his belly, which tickled, but she lingered teasingly at his groin, lapping at the tender divide between his thigh and his cock. He felt her hot breath steaming over him as she gently lifted his sac and licked his taint, and his body shuddered, legs dropping open further to give her room. She had him carefully wrapped in her soft grip as she lapped and teased, moving up to his balls and mouthing each one. And he was hot, leaking, pulsing in her hand, hips thrusting, his hands tangled in the pillow beneath his head. He was breathing hard, cords in his throat straining, skin flushed as she drove him crazy… he grew lost in her. Her name was on his lips, beating like a tattoo in his brain, written all over his skin and everywhere that she kissed, because he was hers.
He knew he wasn’t going to last long when her lips finally drew him inside the sultry, slick heat of her mouth. Her long, thick waves of hair kept drifting into her face, a hazard of letting it loose, but he didn’t care, he just kept sweeping it back with his fingers, tangling them in its softness. Her cheeks were hollowed as she suckled him, drawing him down in long, smooth pulls, fingernails lightly scratching down his thighs. She arched over him, breasts dangling to brush against his skin, and he reached for them, teasing at her nipples. She chuckled around his flesh, then moaned at how good his touch felt when he rolled one between his finger and thumb. She eased herself against him and pushed her breasts together around the column of his cock, coddling it and urging him to thrust himself between them. The sight of her engaging him like that was erotic “ mind-blowing “ and he was too excited, losing control and needing so badly to claim her, to be inside her, even though he was loath to ask her to stop.
He pulled back, and she gave him a look of reproach, then leaned in to give him one last suck. “That’ll do,” he said, voice haggard as he pulled her up to meet him. “I ain’t gonna last if ya don’t stop, Tory.”
“I was just getting to the good part.”
“This is the good part.”
And it was. He rolled her to her back, drew her knees up and apart, and Logan teased her, rubbing the plump, engorged head of his cock against her slick folds. She gasped and thrust against him, wanting him to get on with it. “Now who’s impatient, huh?” he asked.
“In me. NOW.” She thrust up at him, and she was about to drag him down where she wanted him if he didn’t get on with it.
He lifted her legs over his shoulders, kissing the inside of her knee, and thrust himself inside her heat. The breath left her lungs in a rush. She felt full, stretched, and complete with their connection, and he pulsed inside her as he rocked his hips forward in smooth, deep strokes. Her moans were low, forming his name. She gripped the pillow, this time, arching back into the mattress as he drove into her.
“Ororo,” he grated out. His grip on her thighs was firm as he rutted and rocked, sending waves of pleasure into her core. She was slick and hot, squeezing him, possessing him, and it was better than the first time, here in his room, not as strangers. Not as coworkers with an ongoing rivalry. They were lovers, finally getting themselves together and sorting things out. Logan wanted more nights like these, more mornings of waking up to her smile and her warm curves, wanted to laugh with her and hold her hand in the supermarket produce section and walk in the park when the weather was warm, when the sky almost rivaled her eyes. He wanted to wrestle with her for the remote and make scrambled eggs together in their tiny kitchen. He wanted it to be their kitchen. He wanted them to share a mailbox and a subway to work every day.
He wanted to keep hearing her saying his name like that, in that sexy, hoarse husk.
He kept his thrusts controlled, giving her scarce chance to collect herself before shunting again, and her voice would change pitch each time, eyes closing until he beckoned to her.
“Look at me,” he said. “Look at me. Lemme see those pretty blue eyes.” He wanted her to see him, to know it was him who made her feel that way, needing to prove it. Needing her to accept that from him.
“S’good. So good,” she breathed. And that pushed him over the edge, made him quicken the pace, because he loved to hear her.
“Ororo.” His voice was rough and hoarse. “How do ya want it?”
“Like that… just like that,” she confirmed, and she clamped down on him, squeezing him as though she didn’t want to release him. He felt his climax coming, working its way down his spine, every inch of his body flushed and tensed because of the sensual woman wrapped around him.
“Like that, baby?”
“Just like that… oh, God. Oh, GodohGodohGod…”
She wrung it out of him, taking every ounce that he had left. They lay together in a replete sprawl, feeling the little spasms die down to the occasional twitch. Ororo felt boneless, and Logan made contented sounds as she stroked his hair and back.
“Mind if I call ya again sometime, Tory?”
Ororo chuckled and kissed his hairline. “You promise? I won’t have to wait by the phone?”
“Uh-uh. I’d never lead ya on, darlin’. I’m a gentleman.”
So they didn’t end their “date” by the front door with her waving after him as he drove off. So they were continuing to do things a little “backwards.”
“Then you’ll have to give me a ring, sometime.”
He tensed, pausing as he kissed her collarbones, and he levered himself up, staring down into her face. “About that…”
“About… what?” she asked, smiling until it dawned on her. “Oh.”
“I might just have to.”
“Logan-“
“I want to.”
Emotion flooded into her chest. She thought she might burst. Heat pricked at her eyes. “Only if it’s what you want-“
“It is. Because I forgot to mention somethin’ pretty important, Ororo Munroe.”
“What’s that?” Her voice was unsteady. She cradled his cheek in her palm, and he turned to kiss it, covering her hand in his and lacing their fingers together.
“That I love you so much it hurts.”
Her throat felt thick, and she nodded. “I think we skipped that part. Par for the course, I guess, with us.”
“Seems like it.”
“You love me?”
“I’m crazy about ya, darlin’.”
“Good. Because I’m in love with you, too. I wouldn’t want you to leave me hanging. We would have to have words. Very stern words, Logan.”
“Sounds scary.”
“Oh, you know it, buddy.”
“I love you, Ororo.” Because it felt so right, finally coming out with it, that he needed to say it again.
“You’re pretty forward on a first date,” she teased. “But it’s not a dealbreaker.”
“Lucky me.” He nuzzled her neck, and she hummed in approval.
“I love you, Logan.”
*
They woke with the sun, tangled together and smelling faintly of sweat and morning breath, but neither of them cared. Ororo’s hair was a complete tangle when Logan reached down to smooth it out of her face, and she squinted up at him, then smiled blearily. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He pulled her close, tucking her against his chest. “Ya don’t believe in letting a guy sleep much, do ya?”
“Who, me?”
“Yeah. You.” He kissed her hairline, and she smiled against his skin.
“Did you mind?”
“No.”
“Okay, then.”
Round two was slow and tender. Round three nearly killed him. But he would have died happy; the coroners would have come in to find his smile frozen on his face.
But she was there with him. She was content and warm and not in a rush to get up, wasn’t trying to make any hasty exits without waking him.
And she loved him. Logan’s arms tightened around her and he kept kissing her.
“This is nice,” she mused, yawning and stretching against him. Then, “This room’s tiny.”
“Whole place is tiny. Don’t know if ya noticed before.”
“You didn’t give me the grand tour.”
“I wouldn’t call it ‘grand.’ I’ll only charge ya two cents for the nickel tour.”
“So you have a full-sized tub in the bathroom?”
“Nope.”
“Then we’ll just have to improvise.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Improvise, huh?”
“I can be flexible about these things.”
That made him smile even more. “Flexible.”
“Uh-huh.”
He tugged her out of bed, despite her protests, and gave her a “tour” of the shower. True to her word, she was “flexible.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Not sure what happened to this chapter. My update got eaten, I think, with my last upload?
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