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Strands of hair tickle his neck, waking Logan from sleep. He glances down to see a familiar head of hair. Sophie is dead to the world. He hates to wake her, but his stomach is painfully empty, and he needs to use the bathroom.
She grumbles as soon as he starts to pull away.
“Sorry, darlin’.” He kisses her cheek in apology. “But I gotta get up.”
Leaving her to sleep, he steps out of the room. The chill in the air tells him it’s still early. After using the bathroom, he heads to the kitchen. There’s broth leftover from last night, so he pours it into a pot and sets it on the stove to reheat.
While it simmers, Logan works on making coffee for the adults in the house. Noting that the broth still needs some more time, he carries a mug back to the bedroom.
Sophie has rolled into the space he left behind. The pants he loaned her to sleep in hang low on her hips, the drawstring having come undone sometime in the night. A sliver of skin is visible, marked with the edge of that scar he felt yesterday, reminding him how soft it was beneath his fingers. Strands of hair are tangled, mussed with sleep and wild across the pillow. The shoulder of her tank top has slipped off, exposing the curve of her right breast.
If Logan were a better man he would have left right then and there to give her some privacy.
But he’s pretty sure they’re dating now - and he’s a smitten man with a beautiful woman in his bed - so he watches, red-faced, as her chest rises and falls in the morning sun. Each breath comes slow and deep from parted lips. He wants to steal a kiss, but a louder part of him just wants to drink her in.
Logan stands there, coffee in hand, licking his lips as a different type of hunger stirs.
Then his stomach growls, reminding him that regular hunger will not be satisfied by ravishing his girlfriend. Sophie stirs at the sound and Logan finally steps into the room.
“How’s your shoulder?” She asks sleepily, sitting up.
“Better,” he answers. “Coffee?”
Grabby hands snag his waist and he obliges, sitting at the edge of the bed as she nestles up to him with a happy hum. “Thank you.”
“Broth’s on the stove.” He hands over the coffee, pleased to hear another delighted sound from her. She breathes in the smell of the coffee and his arm settles loosely around her while she starts to wake up.
“I thought I smelled something burning,” she hums.
Logan sniffs the air before shooting to his feet. He hustles to the kitchen and sure enough, when he checks the broth, he’s seared the potatoes at the bottom.
“Bacon?” Andy’s voice comes from the doorway. Logan glances back, seeing the kid still in his pajamas, tiredly rubbing his eyes. Just behind him, Sophie looks like she hasn’t noticed Logan’s crime. She’s holding her coffee in both hands, looking perfectly content.
“It’s still edible,” Logan insists, much to Andy’s visible dismay. The broth wasn’t that badly ruined, Andy just really wanted Owen’s bacon and eggs (their backup plan when Logan ruined a meal beyond recovery).
Andy looks up at Sophie with big, pleading eyes.
“It’s still edible,” she echoes. “We’ll just add some curry powder.”
The boy sulks, shuffling down the hall to get dressed for the day.
“Have you changed your bandages yet?” Sophie settles at the dining table.
“I’ll get it once Andy’s been sent off to school,” Logan answers, retrieving the curry powder and tossing some into the pot. After a taste-test and a good stir, he’s dishes out breakfast.
“Are you going to help Jasmine this morning, Andy?” Sophie asks when Andy comes back from his room.
“Naw.” Andy shakes his head. The sight makes Sophie smile, he picked up that mannerism from Logan, she’s certain. “Ms. Heidi wants to start early today so we can see how Minister Burgess manages the water.”
“Yer going to see the import from Portia?” Logan asks.
Andy nods, reluctantly taking a bite of broth. “...Could be worse.”
Sophie eats hers without any reaction. She never seemed bothered by how badly he burned their meals. Haru was convinced her tastebuds weren’t properly working after she took a bite of the charred skewers Logan made for Haru’s going-away party without a single grimace at the flavor.
Andy finishes his meal quickly and darts off for his school bag. “Bye, Sophie! Bye, Logan!”
They shout their goodbyes from the kitchen as they clean up. Sophie scrubs the pot, having nudged Logan out of the way with her hip, knowing it would be a two-handed job to get the burnt remains of potato off the bottom.
He tries to help, but she bullies him into sitting at the table with a mug of coffee.
“You made breakfast, so I’ll clean up,” she says. Logan knows it has more to do with resting his shoulder than any true obligation to clean up, but her logic is sound.
When the dishes are dried and his coffee is gone, they move downstairs to the sofa chair to take care of his wound. It’s the first time he’s seen it properly.
Two inches long, the wound is an angry red. Fang had stitched it up nicely and with the medicine, it shouldn’t take long for Logan to heal. Sophie applies some kind of salve that stings at first and then soothes some of the pain. Logan hands her a roll of bandages and sits still while she winds it around his shoulder and chest.
She does all of this while straddling his lap. His hands find the back of her thighs, steadying her as she moves around. Every shift of her weight makes his heart pound. Each brush of her hands against his bare chest leaves a trail of fire. Her tank top hides very little from this angle and it’s a fight not to look down the low collar.
Desire has him gripping her thighs in a desperate attempt to ground himself. That hunger from before is back again. He’s just barely able to wait until she’s secured the last of the bandage when whatever control he had snaps.
He surges forward, pressing his lips to hers and asking for permission to enter her mouth with a swipe of his tongue. She opens up for him with a gasp. The taste of curry powder and broth is even better like this than it was in the bowl.
Sophie moves against him like she's been waiting for this moment just as long as he has, sliding her tongue against his and running her fingers up his neck to cradle his face. He pulls her further into his lap by the back of her thighs. Her hips twitch, right up against his swelling cock, and she swallows the groan that it pulls from him.
He sucks on her tongue, partly to slow her down and partly because he just plain wants to. His hands slide up to her firm ass, encouraging her hips to continue moving against him.
The hands on his face return to his chest, bracing herself to grind against him. She's driving him wild. His good hand finds its way up her tank, just enough to touch the skin of her waist.
"I’m all yours, yakboy."
He feels the words against his lips as she speaks them. A shiver runs down his spine, and his hips jerk upward into hers. The gasp it pulls from her is one he wants to memorize. In retaliation, she grinds down hard against him, making them both groan.
"Really?" He rasps. He figured she was his considering their current situation, but it hadn’t been explicitly stated yesterday and he wants to hear her confirm it.
“Yes,” she breathes, and he can’t help but kiss her hard.
She’s his.
Elation and excitement and relief all coalesce into an emotion so strong that the smile he makes breaks the kiss. She's in his arms, in his lap, kissing him, and he is hers completely and utterly.
She smiles down at him, kissing the bridge of his nose then his mouth, trailing little kisses down his neck and chest while sliding her hips backwards off his lap. She nudges his stubborn fingers away, and he reluctantly lets her go.
Her mouth travels further down his abdomen until she reaches his jeans. She settles herself between his legs, sending a bolt of excitement through his body and straight to his dick.
"You're supposed to be taking it easy," she breathes against his clothed crotch, skillful hands undoing his belt.
"Darlin' you don't have to..." His words trail off into a groan as she drags her tongue over the fabric covering his bulge. His fingers dig into the chair arms, doing his damned best not to move his hips or grab her head. Not without her permission.
"I know," she says and the words feel sinful as she mouths them against his length. The zipper of his pants drags down, the sound making his heartbeat skyrocket.
"You're doing so well," she praises. "Staying so still for me."
He shudders at her words. The chair creaks ominously as his hands go white-knuckled and the wound at his shoulder strains.
"Relax." She reaches up with one hand to caress his cheek. She hasn't even really done anything and he's already losing control. He can't help it. She's riling him up like nothing else.
He forces his left arm to untense, letting his right grip all the tighter for it.
"Good." She kisses his crotch as a reward.
"I ain't gonna last long if you keep that up," he warns through gritted teeth.
She sits up a little to press a kiss to his abdomen as her hand leaves his zipper to find the small of his back, silently urging him to lift his hips. The hand at his cheek moves away to help pull his boxers and pants off in one go.
The clothing is bunched at his calves. Sophie ducks under a leg, rising between his thighs and hooking her arms over his bare legs. Those beautiful, calloused hands of hers find his hips and hold him in place as she rests her head against one thigh. A teasing breath of warm air does little to cool the fire of anticipation that she's ignited just by resettling back between his legs.
Teeth nip at the sensitive skin of his thigh as she alternates between sucking and kissing tantalizingly close to his weeping cock. Each time she switches her attention from one thigh to the other, she gets closer and closer to where he wants her the most.
Her work goes straight to his loins and he struggles to keep his left side from tensing back up. Part of him wants to beg her to get on with it, another is basking under her ministrations, delighted by the time and effort she's putting into dragging out his pleasure.
"Sophie," he moans. "Darlin' you're killin' me."
At his words she plants one last kiss to the junction between thigh and groin and takes mercy on him, "I guess you do deserve a reward for being so good."
A hand wraps around his aching dick, holding it in place as her tongue travels from base to tip in one long swipe. Air hisses in through his gritted teeth, her strength is all that keeps him in place as his whole body jerks from the unexpected sensation.
A flick of her tongue on the tip of his dick swipes away the pre-cum gathering there while clever fingers massage his balls. He bucks his hips again when she presses a torturously sweet kiss to the head of his dick. Then she opens her mouth and releases his hips, letting him fuck into her warm, wet mouth.
She takes as much of him into her mouth as she can, using her hands to stroke the lower part of his dick and fondle his balls. Her cheeks hollow and her head bobs down in time with his thrusts. Her clever tongue brings him closer and closer to the edge.
Her mercy, he decides, is debatably unmerciful. Light, she feels like sin and she looks so pretty with her lips around his cock, gorgeous hooded eyes watching him fall apart beneath her.
In that moment, Logan knows he doesn't want this to end with just her mouth.
“Stop, stop ,” he begs, squeezing his eyes shut, trying his damndest to reel himself back in. She freezes in place.
He can't look at her if he wants his way, so he tilts his head back towards the ceiling before opening his eyes again.
Prying his grip from the arm of the chair one finger at a time, he reaches down with his good arm to nudge her off.
"Did I do something wrong?"
The worry in her voice has him snapping his head up. The confusion and concern on her face makes his erection flag.
"No, darlin'." He pulls her up, back into his lap and wraps his good arm under her ass. She squeaks when he suddenly stands, clinging to him with her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders. Ignoring the spike of pain that shoots through his shoulder, Logan kicks off his pants and starts to carry her up the stairs.
"I jus' didn't want it to end so soon." He kisses her. "I don't want our first to be in a chair."
"I would've waited if you'd said something,” Sophie says, running her lips along his cheek and down his neck.
"Ain't occur to me until just then," he admits, stumbling a bit when she suddenly sucks harshly at the junction between neck and shoulder. "The things you do to me..."
“Fair’s fair,” she declares, moving to suck another hickey into his skin. “You have no idea how good you looked… I want another go at you when you’re ready, I want to watch you fall apart underneath me.”
He feels the shiver that runs through her as he whispers huskily into her ear, "I got so caught up in you, I nearly let you get away with it."
She smirks at the perceived challenge. “Next time, I will get away with it.”
His bedroom door is ajar, making it easy to slip inside and kick the door shut with his heel.
Coming over to the bed, he lifts a knee up onto it and leans her down onto the mattress. Sophie pulls away from his neck, and it's already so much better than the chair because it's- she's-
He has a hard time explaining it, even to himself, but it boils down to the woman of his dreams sprawled in his bed, eager and happy.
It feels more intimate, more private, more like how he wants their first time to go.
"Look at you," he teases. "Hardly fair is it? I haven't got a stitch of clothing on me and you still got your watch on."
Sophie's eyes crinkle. Her hands release him, falling on either side of her head.
"Well, would you like to do the honors or shall I?" She asks, low and teasing.
Wetting his lips, he brings his other knee up onto the bed for more leverage.
"If you don't mind," he says, excited.
His fingers find the edges of her tank top and at her nod, he pulls it off over her head. If he had any patience left, he would go slow, ravishing her skin as it's revealed to him one inch at a time - see how far he could push her with just his mouth.
As it is, he barely allows himself to admire her before pouncing.
He runs his hands up her sides, exploring the smooth skin and scars previously hidden from view.
There are tales of survival written into her flesh. The scar he felt earlier was from a pair of large claws marks on her side. There’s a fractal pattern from the lightning Matilda’s mech generated that mirrors his own. Bullet wounds and laceration lines are scattered across her body. He kisses them gently, grateful she survived.
He wants to hear her stories one day - he’d eat his hat if her scars didn’t come from her time in The Pit - and he wants to share his own in return.
The bite mark on his arm that he got from a Rockyenaroll when he was young and stupid, the claw marks on his right leg from a monster up North, spikes from the tail of another monster out East that slammed into his chest and sent his Pa into a tizzy for a season and a half, a sword wound from a bodyguard protecting a caravan that had food Logan desperately needed to feed Haru and Andy when they were still on the run.
Soft, pleased noises escape from Sophie's lips as he mouths at her skin, reminding him the stories will have to wait. There's a very pretty lady in his bed, and he has every intention of satisfying her.
He maps her body with his left hand while the other teases a nipple, coaxing it to a peak with rough fingers. Her breast fits perfectly in his palm, and he feels it out, exploring it with a reverent touch that has Sophie shuddering.
Drawing the other nipple into his mouth, he puts his tongue to work, grazing his teeth against the hardening nub, and sucking. Her fingers thread into his hair, resting there as she lets him do as he pleases.
He lavishes the same attention she had given his thighs onto her breasts, nipping and sucking each one in turn, using the noises she's making to guide him. Once he's satisfied, he looks up at her to see the result of his work.
She's flushed, bottom lip swollen, pupils blown wide. Her marked breasts rise and fall with each breath.
Proud of himself and eager to see more, he trails kisses down her body, hooking a finger into the waistband of her pants. It takes her a second to realize he's waiting for permission before giving a breathless nod.
The garment - his pants - which had been teasing him with the sight of her hips earlier, come off with little effort. He pulls her underwear down with them and doesn't waste any time getting his mouth on her.
"Logan!" She gasps as he swipes his tongue against her core.
Revenge taken for earlier, he settles in, encouraging a leg to hook over his good shoulder while his tongue explores her. She's been biting her lip, keeping herself quiet while he ravished her breasts. He's determined to make her louder.
Running the flat of his tongue up her folds, he sucks on her clit before going back to eating her out like a man starved. She tastes like salt and metal. Her walls flutter against him when his tongue presses inside and he revels in the noises she makes. Every whimper and moan spurs him on with a single-minded focus.
Suddenly, her hands pull him up into a heated kiss, tasting herself on his tongue with a moan.
"Inside,” she pants. “I want you inside."
"Fuck, yes," he breathes.
Her hand finds him, lining him up. He pushes inside, and she falls back on the bed with an eager whine. His hands trail along her sides again, coming up to squeeze her breasts and tease her nipples before finding a home at her hip. He braces his good arm above her so he can watch her as he sinks deeper into her.
He eases into it, despite Sophie's insistent legs wrapping around his waist. Her heels press against his hips, trying to hurry him on. They both let out a shaky breath when he's fully seated inside her.
Those talented hands of hers start to explore his chest - about to make him feel amazing, he's sure - but he won't last long as it is. From the sound of her, to the feel of her, to the sight of her-
The sight of her utterly debauched in his bed with his cock inside of her steals the breath from his lungs.
He wants this to last as long as possible.
Leaning back slightly, he grabs both of her wrists with his good hand and lifts them over her head, pinning them there. Her walls pulse around his cock, threatening to bring him to the brink already.
"Not gonna last long if yer pretty hands are workin’ me over." He struggles once again to reel himself back in.
"Logan-" Whatever she was going to say is lost to a guttural moan as he rolls his hips. It's not quite what he was looking for but it's close.
The high-pitched, fake moans she’d given those Duvos bastards had haunted him since that night. They lingered in his ears, recent fantasy making them wanton and desperate. He wants to drown out the fake noises of pleasure that she made out of necessity and survival, wants to replace them with her real ones and all the different ways they sound when it's true pleasure that pulls them from her.
Is she faking them now? The thought hits him like a train. Would she have made these same noises for the Commander if he had managed to fuck her?
The thought snaps his retreating hips forward, thrusting into her and setting a quick pace. Sophie moves to meet his movements, arching her back, and straining against his hold on her wrists.
" Logan !" She moans, high and breathy, and it lights a fire under his skin knowing he's the one making her sound like that. Her hair is wild, face flushed, panting, mouth parted in pleasure and watching him with a hungry gaze. There is no distress, no fear in her eyes, only a desire for him . The only bruises on her are ones she was very vocally happy to receive from his mouth, marking her as his.
It's real. She's real.
"Cum for me, darlin'," he growls, picking up the pace. His hips slam into her with determined precision, and his free hand finds her clit, rubbing in quick, merciless circles.
Her moans rise higher, mingling with the lewd, wet noises rising between them until he feels her walls clamp down around him. He feels her whole body shake as she cums with a sharp cry.
It's the last straw he needs to pull out and spill himself onto her abdomen.
Breathing hard, he stares down at her. Loose and sated, she looks back with that infinite warmth that staggers him every time he sees it. A quiet ‘I love you’ that Logan still isn’t sure he deserves. He never thought he would get to have this - to have her, the person everyone turned to in times of crisis, laid out in his bed looking like she doesn’t want to be anywhere else.
He releases her hands and cups her cheek.
“I love you,” he says.
Her breath hitches, eyes going wide in surprise, and then that warmth is back.
“I love you too,” she smiles, holding his hand against her cheek and leaning into it.
He moves to find something to clean her up, but she doesn’t let him go. She kisses the palm of his hand and tugs gently at him, urging him to lie down with her.
He rolls onto his good side, pulling her close and ignoring the mess. Logan watches her while she rubs languid, massaging circles into the muscles of his hand. When their breathing steadies, he uses the sheets to wipe them both clean.
Sophie gently nudges him into laying on his back. When he's done so, she hooks a leg over his and nestles into his side.
Idly playing with her hair and pressing kisses into her skin, listening to how they make her giggle, naked as the day they were born, Logan savors the moment.
He buries his face in her hair, the faint smell of raspberries and the feel of her thumb rubbing across his sternum puts him at ease enough to drift off into slumber.
In his arms, Sophie dozes with a sleepy smile, content and happy.
He wants her there for the rest of his life.