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galatially · 4 months

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❝𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬❞

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 "𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧" 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 x 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — you called and i came, the history between us too broad to ignore; when he showed up on your doorstep five years after he disappeared in the middle of the night, logan howlett decided to clear the air

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 5K

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝟏𝟖+, strong language, exes, angst, smut, soft boi™ logan, exes to tentative lovers

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — it is time to spread the agenda of logan howlett and his influence on my brain rot for most of my nerdy life. shout out to lizzy mcalpine for making "ceilings" and having me spiral over it for a year!

also also, y'all, i know. i'm horrible at deadlines. but it's what y'all love about me lol

also also first post of 2024!

as always, lovely dividers by @firefly-graphics

Your fingers rubbed moisturizer into his skin, your fingers both light and firm.

“You have so many scars.” He grunted in response. “When you tell me, am I going to have to set a house on fire?”

Logan laughed. “And why would you do that, bubba?”

“To defend your honor, of course.” You laid across his back to whisper in his ear, the warmth of your breath making the hairs on his body erect. “Can’t have you being the hero all the time. My shoulders are strong, too.”

“…listening? Logan? Logan!”

He blinked, his vision focusing on Ororo’s concerned gaze.

“What’d you say?”

A soft smile graced her lips. “I asked where you were going.”

Logan hoisted his duffle bag over his shoulder. “I’ve got some business to attend to.”

Ororo hummed. “Would this have to do with a certain someone that lives in the Canadian mountainside?” He didn’t answer as he threw the bag in the back of his truck. “Do you think that’s the best thing for her right now?”

“I just want to make sure she’s okay, Munroe.”

“And then what?” Ororo crossed her arms. “What are you going to do when you see that she’s fine?”

He threw her a hard glare. “I just want to see her. Is that so fuckin’ wrong?”

Her features softened. “You had another dream about her.”

Logan turned back towards the garage. “What does it matter? I just need to see her, Munroe.”

She held her hands up. “I can’t stop you. I just worry that you’re about to uproot this woman’s life because you can’t let her go.”

He took in a sharp breath. She wasn’t wrong; he’d spent the better part of six years raking himself over the coals at how he ended things. If he allowed them, the memories of you screaming and your brown eyes red and puffy from crying haunted him more than any battle he’d ever been in.

“Look, if you’re so hellbent on going to see her, then go. You’re an adult and you have to live with your decisions.”

He walked around to the driver’s side of his truck. “Tell our fearless leader that I’m goin’ out of town and I’ll be back when I can.”

Ororo nodded and waved, a sad smile on her lips.

He shouldn’t fucking be here.

The second Logan crossed the border, he could think of nothing else but to get to you. Thirty-eight hours and he didn’t sleep for any of them. No, his mind’s eyes played memories of you: how soft your skin was, that fig and jasmine perfume you loved. The silken warmth of your cunt. He fucked his fist like a horny fourteen year old in that dingy hotel in BC. If he focused hard enough, he could get the tone of your voice just right — those breathy, pleading moans that you let out only for him. He could get lost in the memories, pretend that he was beside you in your bed, other people be damned.

But that was thirty-eight hours ago.

Now, here he was. His hands gripped the steering wheel of his truck until his knuckles went white, silently cursing himself for even showing up. He hadn’t seen you in, what? Six years? Who the hell was he to appear on your doorstep after the shit he pulled?

His eyes scanned the forest surrounding your home. He hated that you lived so far away from immediate civilization. It took you thirty minutes to get into the nearest town for work and you essentially lived off the grid. When he’d happened upon your home that fateful October evening, he was amazed that you had a working phone, let alone Wi-Fi. Whenever you crossed his mind, he thought the worst. He used to beg you to get an apartment in the city, but you always refused.

“I’m not ready to let get of this place just yet.” You looked up at him from drawing circles on his bare bicep. “Unless you want to give up city life and live out here with me?”

He didn’t answer; even back then, Logan knew that he was bound to hurt you. His refusal to give you more than idle pleasure was a point of contention for you both. Jean always said that he could be hard to talk to because if he wasn’t picking a fight, he was evading questions. But unlike Jean, you weren’t one to back down. When he’d divert or blatantly ignore your questions, you stood your ground. You didn’t give him the chance to distract you with sudden affection. You wanted to resolve issues as soon as they were made present.

It’s something Logan both loved and hated about you.

“Fuck this.” He groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. He blew out a determined breath and opened his car door, his feet moving before he changed his mind. As he got closer to the house, he noticed the red “SOLD” sign on the lawn. His chest thrummed with…pain? Remorse? Fear?

What would he do if you left?

He was on your porch now, his heart hammering against his ribcage, fighting to get to you. He raised his hand to knock on the door as it was opening, being met with the face he’d been dreaming about for half a decade.

Your brows were furrowed in confusion. “James.”

His hazy memory didn’t do you justice; your eyes seemed more intense than the last time he’d seen you. You were dressed in an oversized t-shirt — eerily familiar to an old Pink Floyd shirt he thought he’d lost years ago — and shorts barely peeking out from under the hem of the shirt. Your skin smooth and begging to be touched. Your dark coils were thrown into a bun, pieces falling out in various places. You weren’t outwardly upset but you could school your features better than anyone he knew. Your body was half-facing him and half-facing the tiny hall that led to the inside of the house. There was a solemnity to your face that he didn’t recognize.

A voice in the furthest part of his mind whispered that it was because of him.

“Y’know you’re the only person that still calls me James?”

Your features flattened. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was just passin’ through Edmonton and ended up here .”

“You drove for three days on a whim?”

“I was on my way back from handlin’ somethin’,” he said, the familiar finality in his tone. His gaze went past your shoulders and into the darkness of your home. “Have you eaten yet?”

You blinked. “Not yet.”

He nodded, his blue eyes back on you. “Can I come in? I’ll make you somethin’.”

You should’ve said no. Should’ve slammed the door in his face and went back to packing up the rest of your bedroom. But instead, you moved to the side and let Logan inside. He thanked you and walked inside, toeing off his shoes, and heading back towards the kitchen like he’d been doing it forever.

You looked out at his old, rusted truck one last time before closing the door and going to the kitchen. From the tiny hallway, you could hear him humming to himself; an old song his mother used to sing to him, he’d told you once. He’d put his hair up into a bun at the top of his head, a few strands falling to frame his face. His tan skin, the same skin that had scars that even his mutation couldn’t heal, glowed under the dull glow of your kitchen light. You used to always tell him beautiful he was, but he’d wave you off in that Logan way, telling you that no one was as beautiful as you.

You leaned up against the doorjamb. “Last I heard, you were living in New York. You teach at some fancy school?”

Logan chuckled, mincing up onions and garlic. “I wouldn’t say teach.”

“So, what, you get paid to hang out with fourteen year olds in upstate New York? Sounds kind of sketchy.”

“I teach hand to hand combat,” he glanced over at you, “the kids that I teach it to are like me. Mutants.”

You wrinkled your nose. “I never liked that word; mutants. They make you all sound like failed experiments.”

“Aren’t we?”

“No.” You crossed your arms. “Far from it.”

Logan nodded, more to himself than your declaration, and moved to face the stove. He dumped his vegetables in a small pan to cook. He reached to the left of him — muscle memory, you reasoned — and grabbed a jar of maize. “You’d like it. New York.”

“You think?”

Logan lifted a shoulder. “Be better than livin’ all alone in the mountains.”

You let out a hum. “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

“Where you headed?”

“I don’t know yet,” your eyes dropped to your fidgeting hands, “I didn’t think that I’d be able to sell the house, actually.”

“Why did you? Sell?”

“You know why,” you said, your voice lowered to a whisper. “I held onto it for her and when she died, I didn’t want to stay.”

“‘M sorry I didn’t reach out. Your mother was a remarkable woman.”

You made a bitter sound. “Yeah, well, you’re good at leaving when the wind blows.”

He pursed his lips, turning around to turn off the stove. “You got any plates or bowls left out?”

“James, I —”

“’S fine, Y/N. Bowls?”

You blew out a breath and walked over to the cupboard beside the stove and grabbed two plates, handing them over to Logan. Your knuckles brushed up against his but you kept your eyes on the oak wood of the cupboard.

“Thanks.”

You rushed out a hushed “you’re welcome” and moved back to stand in front of the sink. The air was tense and you had to fight the impulse to pull Logan to you and let him consume you, if only for tonight. You tightened your hands into fists, feeling the bite of your nails as they embossed your skin.

Logan handed you a plate and walked to your tiny kitchen table in the far corner of the room. He sat in his chair: close enough to the back door and facing towards you. Where before it was to smile and regard you with tenderness, now there was unease in his eyes.

You’d forgotten that you didn’t ask what he was making, so the spread in front of you gave you pause: it was your mother’s polenta recipe. “You remembered.” The words came out airy, surprised.

“You’re the last thing that I’d ever forget, bubba.”

“Don’t do this, Logan.” You set your spoon down. “Just…don’t.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, either!” You pinched the bridge of your nose. You pushed your plate away and looked away from your former lover.

What were you doing? He showed up, out of the blue, making you dinner…to do what? The question had been clawing at you the entire visit. Why now? What could Logan possibly want from you after all of these years?

Logan leaned back in the chair, the wood creaking in protest against his broad frame. You kept wanting to speak, break the tense silence, but you couldn’t find the words. Looking at him, he seemed too still. Like a marble statue molded to the chair, anchoring him to this room with you.

“I fucked up, bubba.”

Your brows canted. “What do you mean?”

“That night…the last night that I was here, I said some things that I shouldn’t have. Made promises that I didn’t know if I could keep.” One of his large hands scrubbed down his face, his eyes still on the ceiling. “I told you that I’d leave everythin’ behind to stay.”

Your bottom lip quivered. You remembered; he’d come here that night more impassioned than usual. His hair wind-swept, his cheeks wind-whipped and red, he pulled you in for one of the most passionate kisses you’d ever had in your life. A clash of tongue and teeth against fleshy lips and curves of skin that left you a shaking mess beneath the thin sheets of your bed. You laid in his arms, running your fingers along the lines of his collarbone, when you’d asked if he’d stay. You weren’t begging, didn’t even lower your voice to a low hush to persuade him. You were as direct as you always were, determined to know where you stood in the universe that was Logan Howlett.

“You lied.”

His eyes, darkened with sorrow, finally found yours. “I lied.”

You blinked back tears. “Why? If you knew that you weren’t going to make space for me in your life, why make me believe you would? I uprooted my life for you, Logan! I was going to sell my mother’s house and ride off with you into the sunset! And for what? For you to leave me alone?”

“I couldn’t take you with me then, Y/N. Somethin’…came up.”

“I know, Ororo told me.” Logan shot forward, his eyes wide. “She came and found me two years ago. She said that there was an incident and that you almost died. Said that you kept murmuring my name, telling them to make sure that I was safe.”

He scoffed. “Always meddlin’, that woman.”

“At least she cared enough about you to come find me.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re walkin’ a thin line, bubba.”

“Don’t fucking call me that. You don’t get to call me that anymore, Logan.” You stood up from the table and opened the back door. “Get out.”

“What?”

“Get. Out,” you hissed. “Thank you for making me dinner, but I want you to go.”

Logan crossed his arms, throwing you a hard look. “No.”

Your nostrils flared. “James, get —”

You’d forgotten how fast he was. He was out of the chair and in front of you in an instant, your next retort dying on your tongue. One of his large hands cupped your chin and the other slammed the door shut. His blue eyes roamed your face, searching for something.

Though he towered over you, hell, he overpowered you, you didn’t back down. “I want you to leave.”

“I’m not leavin’. Not until I say what I have to say.”

Your eyes brush along the seams of his lips, lingering, before meeting his smoldering gaze again. “Then say what you need to say and go. I’m done with this.”

Logan’s fingers gripped your chin harder, his gaze hard. “We’re not done talkin’, bubba.” There was an intensity to the nickname as it left his mouth that made your thighs clench together. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing up against yours.

You gripped the sleeve of his flannel, your pulse fluttering in your ears. The hand that had closed the door moved to the small of your back and pushed you into his pelvis. You gasped at his hardened erection against your thigh.

“You can yell at me, you can fuckin’ hit me if you need to.” He rested his forehead against yours. “But don’t tell me to leave. I don’t know where to go if I’m not with you.”

“You haven’t had me in years, James,” you said, roughly. You knew that he caught the desperation in your tone, your words. You tipped your head back and lifted up on tiptoe to press your lips to his. When you finally noticed that he hadn’t returned the kiss, you started to pull back, a pit growing in your stomach.

“I’m —”

His arm tightened around your middle to keep you still. His mouth molded against yours, hungry and desperate.

You pawed at his flannel, helping him shrug out of it. Logan cupped his hands under your thighs and lifted, wrapping your legs around his waist. You sucked a bruise along the curve where his neck and collarbone meet, relishing in the hiss he let out.

“Wait, wait, wait.” He pulled back, his gaze intense. “I need to say this before anythin’ else happens between us.” Your brows creased. “I hurt you. I hurt you and it fuckin’ killed me, Y/N, and I’m sorry.”

Your breath caught. You didn’t know Logan enough to know his favorite color or his mother’s name, but you knew enough about him to know that he didn’t apologize. Didn’t matter if he was wrong or right, he just didn’t. But the man before you wasn’t the man you knew six years ago. Now that you were looking at him, you could see it all: the dark circles, the stiffness of his body that only came from being nervous.

Despite your assertive nature, you didn’t hold grudges. Those types of feelings need to constantly be fed into and that was energy you couldn’t spare. Not even for men that you fell in love with too quickly.

You put your lips to his again. He mirrored your movements and carried you to your bedroom. He sucked a bruise onto the skin between your ear and shoulder, making you let out a whimper. You ground your hips against his hardened erection.

“Fuck, honey,” he hissed.

“I need you inside of me, James.” You nipped at his earlobe. “Please.”

He kissed you, long and hard, before helping you out of your thin shorts. His thick fingers glided through your puffy folds, a guttural groan leaving his throat.

“You this wet for me, Y/N?”

You mewled in response, your hips moving against his digits, begging for pressure on your swollen pearl.

He gulped, his eyes hungrily tracing over your lust-drunken expression. His cock was straining almost painfully against the denim of his jeans but he couldn’t stop staring at you. He drew the pad of his thumb along the curves of your parted lips, sucking a breath when the tip of your tongue barely swept against the skin.

He dipped the digit between your lips, watching with rapt pleasure as you suckled and moaned around it. He groaned and curved his free hand around the base of your throat. “Such a good girl, aren’t ya?”

You shuddered. “I can be.”

“Oh, yeah?” He suckled a love bite onto your skin. “You think you can be mine tonight?”

You nodded eagerly.

Logan chuckled and threw you over his shoulder, taking what seemed like three large steps into your bedroom and tossed you lightly onto the bed. He took hold of your face and slotted his lips over yours, licking deeply into your mouth.

You pawed and pulled at his flannel, clumsily helping him out of it while trying to keep kissing him. He hummed against your lips and worked your thin shorts down your thighs before ripping them down the middle. The cool air against your bare cunt gave you gooseflesh. Your hands moved to work at his belt buckle as his own pulled at the shirt you wore.

“Was wonderin’ where this went.”

You chuckled. “You barely wore it.” You made a triumphant noise upon getting his pants undone and to the floor, looking up at him from beneath your thick, dark lashes.

He wanted to devour you. One of his big paws cupped your face and he ground out, “Are you sure, bubba?”

You took his heavy cock in one of your hands, moving up and down the length of it. You smirked at his sharp breath as you eased down to your knees. Without breaking eye contact, you took him into your mouth, a low groan vibrating against your tongue.

“Jesus,” he gripped your curls into one fist and threw his head back, “just like that, sugar.”

You hollowed your cheeks and took him deeper, the tip of your nose pressing against his pubic mound. The hand that wasn’t giving gentle squeezes to his thigh when to massage his heavy balls.

A low groan, bordering a growl, tumbled past Logan’s lips. “You have to move, baby. ‘M dyin’.”

You moved your hand from his balls to curl around the base of him, slowly working in tandem with your mouth. You moaned around his cock, spit dribbling down the sides of your mouth. You lightly scraped your teeth along the length of him. Logan hissed and gripped the sides of your face and started fucking your face. Your eyes were rimmed red, tears streaming down your face, and yet he looked at you with the reverence reserved for altars and gods.

“‘M cummin’…’m —”

He came in thick ropes into your mouth, his hips stuttering as he was coming down. His hands fell from the sides of your face to rest them on the tops of his thighs.

You pushed off of Logan with a faint “pop” and sat back against your calves. Your eyes trailed up and down Logan’s frame; you’d forgotten how big he was. Broad shoulders and back, large hands, thick, corded muscles. He could sometimes be as foreboding as he looked.

Then, post nut clarity smacked the shit out of you.

“Shit.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, me, too.”

“No. I mean, shit like we shouldn’t have done that.” You pushed yourself onto your feet. “Where’s my shirt?”

“You mean my shirt?”

You ignored his jibe and scanned the room for the garment. One of his hands shot out and pulled you onto his lap.

“I can smell ya, sweetheart.”

Your brows creased for a few seconds before you understood what he’d meant. You gulped, your chest rising and falling in hard pants. “Doesn’t matter, James. This was a mistake.”

His eyes — those intelligent, ever-searching eyes — darkened, a hunger in them that you hated that you missed. “Was it? What’s so wrong about two people findin’ each other again?” His thumb swept along your bottom lip. “‘M all yours to do whatever you need, baby.”

Your tongue darted out, barely pressing against his skin before his mouth claimed yours. He eased you onto your back as his hand traversed the expanse of your torso. His hands pawed and kneaded at your breasts, rubbing and twisting your nipples into stiff peaks. Your back canted towards his touch. His mouth suckled at your right nipple, his other hand still playing at the other.

“James,” you pleaded.

“What, bubba?” He chuckled darkly. “Use your words.”

Every word that flashed in your mind died in your throat. Only incoherent pants and groans left you. Logan switched to your left breast and one of his free hands cupped your mound. Your eyes screwed shut. The rough pad of his thumb brushed up against your clit, sticky with your slick.

“So wet and I’ve barely touched you.”

Your hips bucked and he rubbed the bundle of nerves again. Slow, tortuous swipes that sent shocks to your system and tightened your belly with need. Just before the coil snapped, his cock drove into you. Tears fell from your eyes and a choked gasp ballooned in your chest.

“Fuck, honey, s’good.” Logan’s voice was hoarse and desperate. He fucked into you like a man possessed; his big hands gripped your hips, surely leaving bruises behind. He moved one hand to curl at the base of your throat. Vignettes of memories past played in your mind’s eye and you let out a ragged keen, moving your hips to meet his thrusts. His name passed your lips. “Yeah, baby?”

You gripped one of his forearms. “‘M close.”

Rough skin swept across your clit. “Let go for me, bubba. C’mon.”

Your back canted as a guttural moan ripped from your throat. Logan pulled you into his chest, whispering my good girl and I’m here in your ear as you came down. For a moment, it was like nothing had changed. He’d never left you behind six years ago and this was just another evening for the two of you. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you buried your face into his chest.

“Hey.” He lifted your chin to meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I hate this,” your voice quivered, “I hate that you came back. I hate that I still — ” You shook your head. “We shouldn’t have done that, James.”

Logan cupped your face in his hands. “What do you want me to do? I’ll do anythin’ you ask me to, Y/N, you have to know that.”

“Do I?”

He pulled out of you and gathered you in his arms as he tucked you both into bed. His deep, even breaths reverberated up your spine. You sat in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again.

“I never meant to hurt you. Hurtin’ you was the last thing that I wanted to do and there’s nothin’ I could do to fix that.” He pressed his lips to the nape of your neck. “Just…talk to me. Please.”

“You broke me, Logan, do you know that? I broke all of my rules for you and it broke me. I was already grieving my mother and you made me grieve you when I never had you to begin with.”

“I know,” he rasped.

“Do you?”

“When Storm came to visit you, she wasn’t jokin’. I almost fuckin’ died.” He ran the backs of his fingers up and down your spine, his tone faraway. “I was slippin’ away, could barely focus on anythin’ in front of me for too long. Then suddenly, your face was the only thing I saw. I could picture you so clearly, down to the micro expressions that I didn’t even realize I’d paid attention to.” He rested his chin atop your head. “I’d made sure that I never thought of you too often or I’d leave everythin’ behind to come back to you.”

“And yet, here you are.” Your voice wobbled at the end. “You broke the one rule you shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah, well, rules are meant to be broken. I don’t regret showing up. Even if this is the only thing I could get, I’d fuckin’ do it all over again just to see you, bubba.”

You turned over to face him, your brown eyes hard. “Yeah, but bodies weren’t, James. You shouldn’t have to nearly die to decide that I’m worth seeing again.”

“You really love half-listenin’, don’t you?” He held your chin between his fingers, lifting your eyes to his. “I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about you since I left, Y/N. The only reason that I didn’t keep in touch was because I was afraid that you wouldn’t want to see me. Like you said, bodies weren’t meant to broken.”

“Neither were hearts,” you murmured.

He nodded. “And would yours consider lettin’ me back in? It’s selfish to ask, I know, but I don’t want to let you go again, bubba.”

You threaded your fingers between his. “I want to. But how will I know if you’ll stay this time, James? What’s changed in the last six years?”

Logan brought the back of your hand up to his lips. The warmth in his eyes, while not unfamiliar, made your breath catch. For a split second, you remembered that he could hear your heartbeat fluttering madly in your chest, your pulse against his forearm.

“When do you leave for New York?”

Your brows knitted together. “I should be done packing in a few days. Why?”

He pulled one of your legs over his hip, laughing when you sucked in a breath. “We’ll go into town tomorrow, pawn all the stuff you’re not usin’ anymore, and pack up the rest in the truck. We’ll make a trip out of it.”

“And where would we go after that? I’m not living in a boarding school.”

“I have a place of my own, thank you very much,” he said, smirking, “it’s not much but it’s mine. It could use a…softer touch, I think.”

You sat up on your elbow. “Yeah?”

“‘M gettin’ old, bubba. Like, obviously not so much physically, but mentally? I’ve seen wars, watched people that I care about die. Walked away when I should’ve stayed.” He threaded his fingers through your free hand. “I’m sayin’ all this to say that, if you’ll have me, I want to stay.”

You hummed, looking down at your joined hands. If tonight proved nothing else, you and Logan were tethered each other for better or worse. There would never be a moment where you wouldn’t think of each other and that scared you. But if you knew nothing else, you knew that you loved him. You loved James Howlett.

“Will you want to stay? I’m not about to uproot my life just for you to leave me again.”

He pulled you close, putting his forehead to yours. “The worst mistake I’ve ever done is leave you behind Y/N Y/L/N. I should’ve told you that I loved you five years ago.” You gasped. “I love you, bubba, and I regret everyday not that I never told you.”

“Say it again.”

He took your face in his hands and smiled, the peach hue of the sun warming his face. “I love you, Y/N Y/L/N. I’ve loved you for the past six years and I will never stop lovin’ you.”

Tears pooled in the corners of your eyes. You wanted him to say these words, waited for them for over half a decade. But they were…heavier than you anticipated. Though your own confession sat on your tongue, too much clung to them; the last fight you had, your mother dying shortly after and how you resented him even more for leaving you alone at a time like that. More than anything you hated that you cared about him so quickly just for him to leave.

“You don’t have to say it back yet.” Logan smiled some. “Five years is a long time to grieve something.”

You put a hand to his cheek. “You know that I want to, though, don’t you?”

“I know,” he kissed you again, “and we’ll get you there. One day at a time.”

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — given the fact that i haven't written in literal months, y'all have no idea how happy i am to have churned this out. happy 2024!

#galatially #Annie's1KKittiesWritingChallenge #touch me like nobody else does #logan howlett #logan howlett x black!reader #wolverine #wolverine x black!reader

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galatially · 23 days

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❝𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮❞

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐣𝐨𝐚𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬 x 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — i don't want to just be a passing ship in the night; what's that tradition about the bridal party? the groomsman and the maid of honor always hook up?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 8.4K

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝟏𝟖+, strong language, penetrative sex, anal play, strangers to lovers, wedding shenanigans, groom & maid of honor shenanigans, slow burn, slight angst (it's me lol), honorifics (pretty girl, baby, sweetheart, baby girl)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — yay for this finally seeing the light of day! and i've been to two weddings now so i can write from experience and i'm excited all over again lol. this also was a behemoth so yay for that

The warm summer air kissed along the tops of your shoulders, skirting your coils along in its stride. The low hum of smooth jazz played behind you as you took a sip of the wine you’d been nursing for the better part of an hour and let out a breath.

You heard your name. “There you are!”

Well, shit.

You playfully groaned and turned to face your older sister, the soon-to-be Mrs. Samuel Wilson. “Damn it! I thought this was the best hiding place!”

Nikki chuckled and bumped her shoulder against yours. “You haven’t won a game of hide and seek against me since you’ve been born. Give it up.” She tipped her chin to the half full wine glass. “Sam said he saw you knock back two flutes of champagne and then you disappeared. You good?”

“Yeah. Well, no.” You shook your head. “I’m just nervous.”

“Don’t worry,” Nikki said, looping her arm through her yours. “You’re one of the best speakers I know.”

“I guess.”

Nikki knitted her brows together. “What’s wrong?”

Your eyes flitted to the lilac sky. “Do you miss them? Mom and Dad?”

“You haven’t asked about them in years.”

You raised a shoulder. “I don’t know. I was just thinking earlier that you’re getting married tomorrow and that they weren’t going to be here. You’d think that they’d remember they have children for more than two seconds, y’know? Their eldest child is getting married, for Christ’s sake!”

Arms wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you backward. Though you were several inches taller than your sister, the hugs she gave dwarfed you both. You circled your arms around Nikki’s waist and buried your face in the curve of her shoulder.

“You’re such a worrier.” Nikki pulled back and put a hand on your cheek. “You are all the family I need to be here. Fuck what anyone else has to say about it.”

“But Sam — ”

“Sam loves me, with or without parents. He knew that coming into this relationship and hasn’t left yet.” Her lips pulled into a half smile. “Besides, who else is going to deal with me post-wedding?”

You gave her a flat look. “Your husband, dumbass.”

“Nope,” Nikki sang. “My loving, favorite baby sister will be.”

“I’m your only sibling, Nik.” You moved out of your sister’s embrace, a smile working its way to your lips. “Now you’re being gooey and that’s gross. We can’t let them know that we actually like each other.”

“Shut up. You love me.” A voice called to her from behind. “I’ll be right there!” She looked back to you. “You going to be okay?”

“Yeah.” You waved her off. “I’ll meet you inside in a bit.”

“Okay.” Nikki pulled you in for another hug. “Be quick.” She turned and walked to her fiancé’s proffered hand. His gaze found yours for a half a second before he gave her a soft smile.

You loved Sam; he was the safe harbor that Nikki needed after spending the better part of her teenage and young adult life taking care of you. Of course, Nikki took it all in stride and assured you that she wouldn’t have changed her life for another one.

But when Sam came into her life, there was someone else to share her burdens with. Someone to confide in with things you couldn’t understand. She found an equal, a man ready to include her in every aspect of his life. You couldn’t have asked for a better partner for Nikki.

But a part of you — a small, insecure part you often had to force down — felt out of place in their world. You were the kid sister, the child Nikki raised when she was barely older than a child herself. What place would you have in her life once they were married?

Yes, you’d been on your own for quite a few years since Nikki and Sam met but you always came back home to them. That would all change after Saturday.

No.

You were happy, ecstatic. This weekend wasn’t about you and your woes. It was about celebrating two people you loved most in the world.

Sam called out to you, worry in his tone.

“Coming!” You took one more look up at the sky before making the trek back to the hotel.

“Whose side are you from?”

You turned towards the voice beside you, your glass hovering in front of your lips. “Excuse me?”

A few errant black curls poorly masked deep-set and sharp dark eyes that burned into yours. Amused by your response, his lips quirked at the ends. “Are you from the bride’s side or the groom’s?”

“Oh.” You set your glass down. “Maid of honor and sister to the bride.”

Recognition colored his features, his index finger raised to you. “Sam told me about you!”

Your brows pulled down. “That sounds ominous.”

“No, no! I mean, they were all good things, I swear! Just —” He let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m messing this up.”

“Oh, most definitely,” you said, smiling. “But keep going. I want to see where this goes.”

He smiled and leaned in close, giving you a once over. “How about this?” He held up a hand. “My name is Joaquín Torres. My friends call me Joaco. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

A corner of your mouth quirked up as you took his hand and said your name. “Nice to meet you.”

“So is this your first? Wedding, I mean.”

“It is. None of my friends are anywhere near being ready to walk the aisle,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. “You?”

His smile was bright as he playfully motioned to himself. It did something to you, prickled your skin and tightened your belly. “I’m a professional groomsman.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I don’t know what it is, but whenever my friends get married, they immediately think of me. I’m pretty sure I went to, like, seven weddings last summer.”

You held up your glass to him. “Impressive. Have you ever been best man?”

Joaquín smiled, his right cheek dimpling. “Not yet.”

“Same here.” You clapped a hand to your face. “I mean, that it’s my first time being maid of honor.”

He laughed quietly. “You’re fine.”

“Please, talk more so that I can push down my embarrassment.”

“Okay, uh, where are you coming from?”

“Technically, I’m visiting from Georgia, but I’m from New York. Brooklyn.”

Joaquín raised a brow. “What’s in Georgia?”

You let out a half-scoff, half-chuckle, your index finger circling the mouth of your glass. “I just got out of a shitty relationship with this guy a few months back, so I impulsively took a remote position in Atlanta.”

“Well, that’s…interesting.”

“I have the lovely tendency to fall in love recklessly and hopelessly.” You took a long sip of your drink. “Even if I know that that person doesn’t feel the same way about me.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Beats being so oblivious that you don’t even notice when people like you and you spend most of your time pining over them just for them to say that they were flirting the whole time.”

“If I were flirting with you, you’d know,” you said, taking a sip of your drink.

Your name left his tongue in a drawl. “Are you coming onto me?”

Your face warmed. You gave a weak snort. “Yeah, right. Don’t flatter yourself.” Joaquín’s knuckles brushed up against the back of your fingers. You gripped your glass tighter. “So, I guess that means we’re aisle buddies, huh?”

Aisle buddies? Really?

“We are. I promise not to let you fall.”

You raised a brow. “Did you just quote Twilight to me?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He tipped his chin to your glass. “Rum and Coke?”

“Jack and Coke. They only had spiced rum and I’m not a fan.”

“I love a girl who loves her whiskey.”

You laughed. “You’d have especially liked me in college, then. I was a whiskey drinking machine.” You splayed your free hand along the top of the bar. “Was even known to dance on a few tables.”

“Now that I’d love to see.”

You knocked back the rest of your drink and put a hand on Joaquín’s knee, a smile creeping onto your lips. You were no stranger to a little harmless flirting every now and again. But here, with this bright, infectious man, your words could mean something headier. Something more…suggestive. “Those days are behind me.”

“Well now I’m sad that I didn’t get a chance to see you in your prime.”

You rested your chin on your palm, giving him a once over. “We can’t be that far apart in age, can we? You’re, like, twenty-nine at minimum.”

Joaquín leaned closer, his cologne permeating your senses. “I just turned twenty-eight.”

“So, a year older, depending on your birthday,” you quipped, “good to know I’m not the only twenty-something in the wedding party.”

You went back and forth like this for some time. You shared childhood stories of you and Nikki and he told you stories about his and Sam’s time in university.

“You don’t peg me as the frat guy type,” you remarked at one point.

“I get that a lot. I was a freshman by the time Sam and Steve were chapter president and vice president, respectively. ” He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous chuckle passing his lips. “I honestly didn’t think I’d get in. I bullshitted through the rush questions and barely made it through the challenges but, somehow, I got in.”

You smiled. “And made a new friend as dorky as you are.”

Joaquín laughed. “Sam’s great. I couldn’t have asked for a better frat brother. I was really surprised when he asked me to be one of his groomsmen. I haven’t really kept in touch as well as I wanted to, but it’s been great seeing him and hanging out with him again.”

“That’s sweet. His best man, Steve, is the blond, right?”

He nodded. “They’ve been friends since they were in high school, I think. Their friend, Bucky, is also a groomsman.”

“I practically begged Nikki to have one of her friends or her sorors be her maid of honor and she looked at me like I was crazy.”

“Sam said that she basically raised you.”

You shook your head, chuckling. “He’s such a sweetheart. Our parents are narcissists, to put it plainly. They love each other fine, but they couldn’t extend that to us. At first, it was just leaving an eight year old Nikki in charge of a two year old for a couple hours every other week. Then, they wouldn’t come home some days.

“Nikki made the best of it, though. She’d make sure that I never realized how bad things were until I was old enough to understand. By then, we were living with our grandmother and she finally got to be a teenager, you know?” You dabbed at your eyes. “She took it harder than I did. She knew our parents longer so them leaving hurt her more than it ever could me.”

“I’m sorry.” Joaquín put a hand on your elbow. “Your parents don’t deserve either one of you.”

You waved him off. “I know. I’m just glad that she gets her own happiness for once. Sam’s a good guy.” You gave a light shrug. “And he likes me for some reason which makes me question his sanity.”

“I’ve only known you for,” he glanced at his wristwatch, “a little over two hours and I like you.”

“You barely know me enough to say that you like me.”

“So let me get to know you, then. We have all weekend, don’t we?”

The DJ announced last call and you both locked gazes. Gooseflesh spread along your arms and your heart beat against your chest. Your hand was still above his knee, fingers splayed out wide. Your eyes were on him but focused on hazy thoughts in your head. What would his lips feel like if you touched the very tip of your finger against them? Your lips?

He was probably a great kisser. Dominant, needy —

“Hey.”

You blinked and snatched your hand away. “Sorry! I, uh — just a little tipsy, I guess.”

Joaquín smiled. “It’s fine. I was saying that it was getting late and I could walk you up to your room.”

“No, I’m good. The walk should sober me up some.” You stood up. “It was nice meeting you, Joaquín Torres.”

“You, too. I’ll be the best aisle buddy you’ve ever had.”

“You’re going to hold that against me all weekend, aren’t you?”

He ran a hand through his curls. “I’m going to run it into the ground.”

You rolled your eyes, a small smile creeping up on your lips, and turned on your heel to leave.

Despite being a tad bit hungover, you were still fairly refreshed.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Joaquín, your mind making him a feature in a hazy dream you half-remembered. There was a genuineness to him that you admired, a warmth that you wanted bask in for a long time. The way that he gave you his undivided attention as you rambled or even when you weren’t speaking made your heart flutter in your chest.

What was that saying about the bridal party and groomsmen at weddings?

“Nice to see you again, aisle buddy.”

Speak of the Devil.

Your lips quirked. “Good morning, Mr. Torres.”

He ran a hand through his already tousled hair. Unlike the slicked back style from last night, the longer part of his hair was set in loose curls and fell in his eyes. The barest hint of a five o’ clock shadow lined his angular cheeks and jaw. He was so damn attractive. So unfair.

“How did you sleep?”

“Very well, thank you.” He gave you a warm smile. “And yourself?”

You hummed as you lifted your shoulders in a shrug. “Pretty good.” You pointed a thumb over your shoulder. “Did you see the omelet bar the hotel has going?”

“I did. I got a veggie omelet and turkey bacon.” He held up his coffee mug. “Did you get any coffee? They said it’s Colombian.”

You shook your head and nodded to your teacup. “I’m weaning myself off of caffeine.” You tipped your chin towards the slip of paper beside his plate. “Is that the itinerary Nikki slid under everyone’s doors?”

“It is. On today’s agenda: ballroom dancing from noon to one; walking tour of the church from one-thirty to two-fifteen; the bridal party and the groomsmen go to their final fittings at three-thirty.” He shook his head and chuckled. “She’s efficient, your sister.”

“She’s been planning this day since she, like, was eleven.” You took a piece of turkey bacon from Joaquín’s plate. You didn’t react to the flit of his gaze as he watched you bring the food to your lips. You chewed slowly, innocently, your eyes on his.

The faintest hint of a smirk played at his lips. “You enjoying that bacon, sweetheart?”

“Very much.” You licked your lips and threw him a bright smile. “You should ask Nikki her about her wedding binder. She started making it when she was in middle school and finished it before my junior year of high school.”

“Sounds like my cousin, Luisa.” Joaquín playfully groaned. “When she was thirteen, she and my mother spent an entire Sunday afternoon cutting out pictures from bridal and travel magazines and doodling in the margins about her perfect wedding when she got older.”

“That’s adorable.”

“So what about you? Any wedding binders stashed in an old bedroom somewhere?”

“I haven’t put much thought into getting married. I mean, I guess sometime down the line I’d like to get married but maybe not, you know? Maybe I’m not the settling down type.” You lifted a shoulder and looked to Joaquín. “What about you? Is there someone back home you’re ready to settle down with?”

“I don’t know about that but there is someone that I’d love to get to know better.”

You playfully bumped your elbow with his. “Do they have a name?”

Joaquín gave a conspiratorial grin as he raised his mug to his lips. “I’ll tell you later.”

Sam called out to you, cackling. “Lookin’ good out there!”

“Fuck off, Wilson!”

You turned back to Joaquín, rolling your eyes as the dance instructor yelled for you to loosen up. When you stepped on his foot for the third time, you winced. “Sorry!”

He chuckled as he gave your hips a reassuring squeeze. “You’re fine, Y/N. Just breathe.”

You nodded, your eyes going back to your feet. You don’t know how many months you spent begging your sister to take you out of the dance portion of the reception. Even as children, you were so awkward that you didn’t dare try to mimic the fluid rhythms your sister and cousins displayed.

“Are you sure you don’t want to switch partners?” You nodded towards one of your sister’s sorority sisters. “Paula is a much better dancer and she’s really funny.”

Joaquín threw his head back and laughed. “I’m sure she’s great but you’ve charmed me from the moment you very brazenly flirted with me at the bar. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.”

You snorted, small smile growing in the curves of your mouth. “Shut up. You flirted with me first.”

“There’s that smile.” His fingers tapped your waist. “Follow my lead, okay? I’ve got you.”

The instructor clapped out another eight count and Joaquín swept you off of your feet, literally and figuratively. You beamed as you both glided across the floor, amazed that you hadn’t stopped the beautiful flow he was creating.

“See? You’re a natural,” he said, pride in his tone.

His warm gaze took the breath from your lungs so all you could do was nod.

“All right, class!” The instructor clapped their hands. “That’s all for today! Great job!” They nodded to you and Joaquín. “Especially from you two.”

Your face burned as your sister and her friends cheered.

You turned to Joaquín. “You’re a saint, you know that?”

He waved off your words. “You’re not as bad as you think you are. Just got to let those nerves go.” He leaned in closer. “Did you want to grab lunch? There’s a little bistro near the hotel that I wanted to try. “

Nikki appeared suddenly, smiling at Joaquín. “You don’t mind me stealing your partner, do you?”

“Nikki — ”

“Don’t keep her away too long.” He’d said the words so casually, so easy. Like he’d been asked about the weather or what sports team he rooted for. “She still hasn’t told me more about her whiskey weekends.”

Your face warmed as your sister’s wide brown eyes found yours. “Whiskey weekends, huh?”

You ignored her, your eyes on him. “How about dinner instead? Seven okay?”

Joaquín’s cheeks dimpled as he smiled. “Seven is perfect.” He nodded to your sister. “She’s all yours, boss.”

“Bye, Joaquín.”

You grabbed Nikki’s wrist and dragged her towards the exit, her laugh echoing throughout the studio. When you reached the parking lot, you fixed her with a glare. “What the hell was that!”

She feigned surprise. “What?”

“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.” She crossed her arms. “Joaco and I are —”

“So, it’s Joaco, now?” You groaned. “C’mon, anybody would have to blind to not see the way you two look at each other! He’s hot, you’re hot. What’s the problem?”

“Not the point,” you deadpanned. “I barely know him. We probably won’t even see each other after the wedding so what’s the point starting something we won’t finish?”

“Who says you won’t finish it? You literally told me last week that you were thinking of moving back.”

“He lives in the city?”

Nikki frowned. “Did he not tell you that? He and Sam work together. He used to live in Arizona but when Sam and Steve asked if he wanted to go into business with them, he relocated.”

That changed things. It had been easier to imagine a torrid coupling that ended with you never crossing paths again, but if he’d be living in the city — working with Sam, whose company wasn’t that far from where you lived — made your belly clench.

“Huh.”

“Is that a ‘huh, I should listen to my sister for once and ask out the hot best man’ or ‘huh, I’m about to overthink everything because now said best man is going to be close’?”

You flattened your features. “You’re so funny.”

A shit-eating grin stretched across Nikki’s face. “And brilliant and all-knowing. Don’t forget that.” Her smile fell some and she gave you a solemn look. “You know I’m just messing with you, right?”

“I know.”

“Hey.” She put a hand to your cheek. “Don’t do that.”

Your brows canted. “Do what?”

“Make that face,” she gestured with her hands, “and start thinking that something’s wrong with you.”

“Isn’t there? I was with Dante for, what, six months? He’s probably the longest relationship I’ve ever had and I hated every second of it.” You pressed the heel of your palm against your forehead. “Maybe I’m not built for forever, y’know?”

Nikki gathered you into her arms. “You’re nothing like them, do you hear me?”

“Maybe I am, Nik. Maybe all I want is the idea of someone but not the person themselves. I don’t want to do that to Joaquín. He’s so sweet and funny and I’m just —”

She pulled back, a smile on her lips. “You have so much love and care to give and anyone would be lucky to get to be loved by you.”

The corner of your mouth lifted. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m your sister, I don’t have to spare your feelings. But should anything go awry, I’ll be there to protect you and help pick up the pieces.” She held up her pinky finger. “Swear.”

You chuckled and looped your finger around hers. “Swear.”

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

Nikki had insisted on taking you shopping for a new outfit and you’d decided on a beautiful, form-fitting brown satin dress that stopped just above your knees and brown chunky platform heels. You kept your makeup fairly neutral and let your curls frame your face and hang down your shoulders and back. Around your neck were a simple gold necklace stack and gold rings adorned your fingers.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve built my ego tenfold.” Your eyes glanced around the restaurant. “You didn’t say how nice this place was. We could’ve gone somewhere cheaper.”

A wolfish grin curled at the corners of Joaquín’s mouth. “How was I supposed to impress you if I just took you out to a drive-thru?”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Chivalry doesn’t die just because you took me to Wendy’s. But thank you for asking me out.”

“I’m surprised you said yes, honestly.” You scoffed. “Hand to God! You’re one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t know about that. You and Sam must work with some pretty cool clients at the firm.”

“You’re infinitely cooler, sweetheart. Trust me.”

You pushed down the elation at hearing the pet name and set the menu down. “Tell me about yourself.”

He leaned in close. “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me about your family. Do you have any siblings?”

“No siblings. My dad owns a mechanic shop and my mom and aunt run a small restaurant in Phoenix. I was born in Sonoita, Arizona, this tiny place with less than a thousand people.”

“Coming to the city must’ve been a culture shock.”

Joaquín chuckled. “Hit me like a fuckin’ brick, let me tell you.”

“So, how’d you meet back up with Sam? I remember you saying that you lost touch after college.”

“After university, I applied to, maybe, fifty positions with over a hundred different corporate firms and I was striking out left and right. Sam messaged me on Instagram a little while later asking to catch up. When he first asked me to join his firm, I tuned him down.”

“Why?”

He lifted his shoulders. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Sam. He’s one of the best guys I know. But I didn’t want him to just give me a job, y’know?”

You nodded. “That’s fair but I don’t see Sam as being the type to hand out opportunities to just anyone. If he offered you a position, it’s because he believes in you.”

Joaquín smiled. “I suppose so.”

Your server came back with your drink orders. He smiled at you, his notepad in hand. “And are we ready to order? We have a butternut squash risotto as one of our specials, if you’re interested.”

“That actually sounds delicious.” You looked to Joaquín. “Is it okay if I get that?”

“You get whatever you want, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks burned and you, thankfully, didn’t stumble over reciting your order. As Joaquín spoke to the server, you couldn’t help giving him a once over. He wore a navy blue dress shirt that looked painted on, the top three buttons undone. His curls were messily styled and falling in his eyes. His face was clean-shaven save for his goatee and mustache. His big hands were adorned with silver rings. Much like the first night you met, your mouth watered at the thought of those hands on you. How rough or soft they’d feel against your skin.

His gaze found yours and he winked at you. You needed him carnally.

“I think he likes you.”

Your brows pulled down. “What?”

“Our server. He hasn’t stopped looking at you since we got here.” He chuckled. “I can’t blame him.”

“You’re doing it again.”

He raised a brow. “Doing what?”

“Flirting with me,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. “Keep doing that and I’ll get the wrong idea.”

“Maybe it’s not the wrong idea. Maybe it’s right.”

“Look, Joaquín, I don’t know if it’s because of the wedding or if this is one of those rom-com scenarios, but I like you. A lot. But I’ve never been good at relationships and I don’t want to ruin whatever this is before it even gets off the ground.”

He put a hand over one of yours. “I’m willing to go as fast or as slow as you want to.”

“And what if you get tired of waiting for me?”

“How about we just get through dinner first, then the wedding, and we’ll meet each other in the middle?” Your food was sat down in front of you but his hand never left the top of yours. “If after this weekend, you don’t want to keep in touch, I won’t be upset.” He cocked his head to the side. “Okay, I might be a little upset but I’ll respect your decision.”

You nodded, a small smile pulling at your lips. “I can do that.”

“Good.” He leaned back into his seat and picked up his fork, his eyes still on you. “Now, I have an important question to ask you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Okay…”

“Do you like scary movies?”

“What’re you reading?”

You ducked your head between the pages of your book. “Jesus Christ, don’t do that!”

“Sorry. I thought you heard me coming up behind you.” Joaquín tapped the top of your bare knee with a callused finger. “Must be quite an engrossing read.”

“Something like that.” You slid your glasses to the top of your head. “What are you doing up so late?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I’m a bit of an insomniac. What about you?”

“Nerves.” You held your book up. “Figured I’d finish this book I found in my room.”

“Verdict?”

“I should’ve just gotten a drink at the bar before they closed,” you said, snorting.

“We can crack open a bottle in my room if you want.”

You raised a brow. “You raid the mini bars at hotels?”

“God, no! That’s a scam waiting to happen.” A smile grew along his lips. “I bring my own poison.”

You raised a brow. “What kind of alcohol are we talking?”

Joaquín leaned in towards you, his voice low and husky. “I’m a whiskey man.”

God, you could get lost in his eyes. Where most people would leer at you or completely ignore you, Joaquín seemed to be looking to the very soul of you. You could’ve told him anything and everything, given him whatever he wanted.

“And I think I have snacks from my plane ride here.”

You doggy eared your book page and stood to your feet. “Lead the way.”

Joaquín looped his arm through yours and led you down the hallway towards the main lobby. You both must have looked silly to passerby: both of you in pajamas, giggling like teenagers. You caught the elevator just as two people got off and you pressed the seven button.

Once the doors closed, a tension filled the car. Every so often, one of you would shift your weight and the backs of your hands would brush against each other, both of you muttering hushed apologies to each other.

Hazy, heated thoughts ran rampant in your mind. Out of your peripheral, you saw Joaquín leaned up against the railing on the right side of the car. Everything about him just oozed sexy: from the way his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and biceps, to how perfectly his curls fell in his eyes before he pushed it back with one of his strong hands.

His hands. God, his hands.

You shifted your weight again, discreetly rubbing her thighs together to diffuse the tension between your legs. The elevator music suddenly seemed louder and deafening.

“…okay?”

You blinked and turned to Joaquín. He was in front of you now, his hands reaching for you but not quite touching you. Worry painted his features.

“What?”

“We’re on our floor.” His eyes skimmed your face. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, an apologetic smile on your lips. “Sorry, I was just lost in thought.” You cleared your throat and stepped past him out of the elevator. The heat from his body laved against your back. You started towards the left before you turned to look at him over your shoulder.

“I don’t know where your room is,” you said, your voice small.

Joaquín took one of your wrists in his hand and said, “I’ve got you.”

You decided that you loved the way Joaquín laughed.

His eyes crinkled at the sides as he clutched his sides. Sometimes a small snort would pass his lips and it made him laugh even harder. He looked boyish, gentle.

You were sat in the middle of his hotel room floor, the bottle of Jack Daniels between the two of you and the TV turned low in the background. You’d just told him about your first encounter with the Chuck E. Cheese mascot and how the poor then teenager got a swift kick to the groin by an eight year old.

“God, that was great.” He dabbed at the corners of his eyes. “Do you make everyone you drink with laugh this much?”

You knocked back the last of your glass. “Not intentionally.”

“Funny and beautiful,” Joaquín said, toasting to you. “One of my favorite combinations.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“I only want one to believe me.”

“I want to try something. Is that okay?” He nodded. “I need you to say it out loud.”

“Yes.”

You crawled towards him and experimentally straddled him, your hands on his shoulders. Your heart was pounding and you were getting lightheaded but you held your resolve. “Kiss me.”

One of his hands cupped the back of your neck and pulled you in for a slow, hard kiss. His tongue laved the inside of your mouth and you moaned. Your fingers carded through his curls, pulling him closer to you. Teeth clanged against each other as lips were pulled between them, soft moans spilling into the silent void around you both.

Joaquín pulled back. “I’ve been wanting to do that since that first night in the bar.”

You smiled. “Me, too.” Your eyes found the digital clock over his shoulder. “It’s late. I should go.”

“No,” he whined, caging you against his chest. “Stay.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. “I can’t. Not tonight.”

His brown eyes brightened. “So tomorrow night?”

“Maybe. If you behave.” You disentangled yourself from his embrace and stood to your feet. “Goodnight, Mr. Torres.”

“See you in the morning.”

The morning of the wedding started slower than you thought it would have.

You had been sitting in the makeup chair for ten minutes, waiting for Nikki to emerge from behind the folding screen set up in the middle of the room. The bridesmaids were getting ready in the suite next door and you and Nikki shared this suite.

“You look beautiful.”

You turned and saw Nikki; her dress was beautiful: the sleeves were delicate lace and looked beautiful against her brown skin. The back of the dress plunged low and fed into the skirt that trailed behind her. She decided to keep her makeup and hair simple with a natural look and her coils swept up into a polished bun.

You blinked furiously. “You look so beautiful but if I cry, I’m sure the makeup artist will murder me.”

Nikki chuckled. “Me? You look stunning.”

“Compared to you, I look like Ernie from Sesame Street.”

She rolled her eyes. “Take the compliment, you goof.”

You stood up from your chair and pulled her into a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you, too.” Nikki pulled back, her eyes misty. “I couldn’t do any of this without you.” You snorted. “I’m serious! You might not think it, but you’ve been a huge inspiration to me.”

“Bullshit.”

Nikki laughed. “Remember when we went camping that one summer? With Granny and her boyfriend, Alvin?”

You nodded. “We went hiking while they were taking a nap and got lost.” You had wanted to go find a creek that you’d passed on the way to your camping spot.

“You were, what, nine? Ten?”

“I was eight and a half,” you said, smirking.

“We’d gotten lost and I got so scared. I started crying and I think I said Mom’s name.” Nikki shook her head. “I was crying and tired and the last thing I wanted was to keep getting lost.

“But then you bent down and wiped my tears away. You were barely nine years old and you made sure that I was okay before we finally found a park ranger.” She put a hand to your cheek. “Do you remember what you said to me?”

“I said that we would always have each other. No matter what.”

Nikki nodded. “I know that our childhood was less than ideal, shitty at best. I know that outside of Granny, all we had was each other and that made our relationship a little more complicated than other siblings. But there’s not a day that goes by when I’m not in total awe of you.”

“Oh, yeah, my impulsivity and lacking love life are aspirational.”

“You’re one of the strongest people I know,” she rebutted. “As much as I raised you, you raised me, too. You taught me about passion and determination. You’ve made me think outside of the box and go after things that I want. You showed me what being a kid was and how we shouldn’t want to grow up too fast. Anything I learned about self-love and confidence, I got from you.”

You tilted your head back. “The makeup artist had me in the chair for forty minutes, Nikki! I can’t cry off all of her hard work!”

She pulled you into a hug. “No matter what happens, no matter what stages of life we’re in, it’s always going to be us against the world. Don’t ever doubt that.”

You nodded against her shoulder. “I love you, Nikki.”

“I love you, too.”

A knock came upon the door and the wedding planner, Natasha, poked her head in. “It’s time, you guys.” A warm smile crossed her lips. “You both look gorgeous, truly.”

“Thank you,” Nikki said. She squared her shoulders and looped her arm with her yours. “We’re ready.”

You were all too aware of Joaquín’s presence beside you.

It didn’t help that he looked downright sinful in his suit. Did he paint the damn thing on or did it just fit him too well? His hair was artfully messy, curls falling in his eyes. His knuckles brushed up against yours a few times, so soft you’d thought you imagined the contact.

“You’re killing me,” he said against your ear.

You arched a brow. “What?”

“It’s taking all of my self-control not to whisk you off to the church basement and have my way with you.” His voice was rough. “Remind me to personally thank your sister for choosing the dress.”

A triumphant smirk colored your lips. “Noted.”

The organ kicked up and Joaquín turned to face you. “Ready?” He held out his arm.

You nodded and looped your arm through his. The ushers opened the doors and you were met with the guests and white rose covered aisle. As you waited for the second to last pair of the wedding party to head down the aisle, Joaquín leaned in towards you again, his breath laving the shell of your ear.

“I won’t let you fall.”

The couple in front of you started down the aisle and you gripped onto Joaquín’s arm tighter. Once the others were further up the aisle, he took a step forward and you followed. Every few steps, you stole glances at him, your breath catching. Once you were at the foot of the altar, he held his arm up for you to stand beside the other bridesmaids and he crossed over to the groom’s side.

“Dearly beloved. We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of this lovely couple.”

Joaquín caught your eye as the pastor continued his speech. His happiness shone so bright on his face that you couldn’t help but mirror it. You like the rest of the crowd, were brought to tears by the Sam and Nikki’s vows and cheered like sports fans when they kissed as man and wife.

As they were about to step down from the altar, Nikki pulled you into a crushing hug. She whispered teary thank-yous and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“I love you. So much.”

You looked over your sister’s shoulder to your newly minted brother-in-law. “See you for dinner in two weeks?”

Sam smiled and took hold of your wrist. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

You needed an out. Quickly.

Your speech at the reception had most of the room in tears and a few of the wedding party members congratulated you off to the side. When it was time for the waltz, the tension between you and Joaquín was smoldering and all-consuming. All you could think about was his lips on yours.

Before Sam and Nikki made their way to the middle of the dance floor, Joaquín whispered in your ear, “You have two hours.”

“For what?”

“Until you’re mine for the rest of the night.” The noise that left your throat was suffocated by the cheers and applauds for the bride and groom but you knew that he heard it. He moved to go sit at his table before you could get the words off of your tongue.

You kept up appearances as well as you could but during lapses in conversation, your attention wandered to Joaquín. He teased you, subtly biting and licking his lips or giving you quick once overs as he spoke to some distant relative of yours.

Nikki and Sam gave were basking in their marital bliss and, thankfully, didn’t notice the two of you shamelessly flirting from across the ballroom.

The evening died down and Joaquín offered to walk you back to your room. You agreed, ignoring the teases from Nikki and Sam, and let him lead you out of the ballroom. Once the elevator doors closed, his hands were on your skin. Hot, open-mouthed kisses scorched the curve of your neck and shoulders. Hands buried themselves into your hair, holding you firm against the man in front of you.

You didn’t remember how you’d gotten to his floor without bumping into other guests or falling over each other, but you did. The beep of Joaquín’s keycard unlocking the suite door made your heartbeat kick up.

“That dress is sinful on you, you know that?”

“Wait, wait.” You pulled back. “Help me out of this dress. It cost a fucking fortune.”

“My pleasure.” His fingers deftly worked at the buttons on the back of your dress. Once the garment loosened against your shoulders, his fingers hooked around the straps and slid them down slow. Soft kisses peppered along the back of your shoulders. “Such soft skin you have.”

You leaned into his touch, a soft groan falling from your lips. Cool air gave your skin gooseflesh and you shuddered. Your dress pooled around your ankles and you were clad only in your lingerie. You smirked at his sharp inhale. To know that someone as gorgeous as Joaquín Torres was taken aback at the sight of your half-naked body emboldened you.

You tipped your chin. “Kiss me.”

He took your face in his hands and leaned in. His lips hovered over yours, barely skimming the flesh. He was teasing you, you knew that. What you wouldn’t have given to just melt into his touch and be the first to kiss him. But you cut your gaze between his lips and his eyes, silently daring him to make the move.

He chuckled. “You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?”

You ran your thumb along the length of his hand. “Determined, actually.”

“You know that you could kiss me first.”

You let out a breathy sigh. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Joaquín smirked and pressed a bruising kiss to your lips. His tongue laved across the top of yours and his moans vibrated through you. His hands brought your face closer and deepened the kiss. “Jesus, doll, you taste like heaven.”

You rested your forehead against his to catch your breath. You tried to think of something to say, anything to say, but your mind was fogged from kissing him.

He moved you towards the bed and laid you down, kneeling in between your thighs. “I want to taste you.”

You shivered at his words. “Do you?”

One of Joaquín’s hands skimmed a languid trail between the valley of your breasts. His fingertips danced a trail along the soft expanse of your torso, earning him soft gasps and caught sighs. When his fingertips hovered above the waistband of your underwear, his brown eyes met yours again. “Or perhaps I should tease you? Make you beg?”

“I don’t beg.” Your voice was breathy, weak, as you spoke.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He was mocking you, teasing just as you’d done to him moments earlier. His fingers dipped below the elastic, tip-toeing across the top of your pubic mound. Your hips bucked and his lips split into a cocky grin.

“My, my, aren’t we eager?” The very tip of his middle finger hovered above your clitoral hood, tracing a half-circle along the skin. Joaquín looped an arm around your waist to keep you balanced and made slow, teasing circles against your clit.

You screwed your eyes shut and sank your teeth into your bottom lip. A moan threatened to pass your lips but you stifled it. Your fists balled against Joaquín’s shoulders as ripples of pleasure surged through you. “Joaco.”

“I can get used to you calling me that.” His lips trailed along the curve of your jaw. “I bet you’re all wet for me, aren’t you?” Two fingers entered your sex and made a come hither motion. A shock of pleasure rocked you and you let out a moan. “Love how wet you are for me.”

You tried to speak his name but garbled moans left your tongue instead. A warm slickness played at your clit and you let out a cry.

“You taste so sweet, darlin’,” he said against you. “Bet I can make you come all over my tongue.”

Your back arched off the bed and your mouth hung open in wild pleasure as Joaquín ate your pussy like it was his favorite meal. Your toes curled against his back and your thighs all but crushed him against you.

“Fuck, Joaquín, don’t stop!”

He moaned against your sex, the sound of your wetness and his tongue lapping bounced off of the walls. He lifted up and smiled a devilish smile at you. “Such a good girl getting wet for me like this. Making such a pretty mess.” He nipped at your inner thigh and kissed the bruises he left behind. His thick fingers gathered some of your juices and traveled down to play at your asshole. He groaned at how pretty and puckered it was. “Such a pretty little hole.”

One of his digits pushed against the puckered hole and your back arched up again and a throaty moan left your mouth.

“Fuck!”

“You like that, darlin’? Like when I play with your ass?” He worked his finger further into you and another cry broke from your lips. “Your pretty pussy is weeping. Do you play with your asshole when you’re alone, baby girl?” He kissed up your body, lips latching onto one of your pert nipples.

You fisted the sheets and bucked your hips as Joaquín stretched and finger fucked your ass. Tears welled in the corners of your eyes and broken cries of his name filled the room. For a second, you remembered you were in a hotel room and that whoever was in the rooms opposite them could hear you getting absolutely destroyed.

Hope they’re enjoying the show, then.

Your belly tightened and your legs shook as your orgasm rushed through you. A broken sob ripped through you and you flattened on the bed, shivering and sweat-slicked. Joaquín’s fingers left your ass and he slanted his mouth over yours.

“Oh, my pretty girl.” He pushed away tendrils of curls that were stuck to your forehead. “How did I get so lucky to find you?”

You gave a weak chuckle. “You’re one of my brother-in-law’s best friends. The cosmos saw something in you. Take your pick.” You heard the clicking of his belt buckle and your mouth watered.

“Think you can play a little longer, baby?” He lined himself up with your pussy. “Because I’ve been waiting to feel you around my cock for the past twenty-something hours.”

A wicked glint flashed in your brown eyes. “What are you waiting for, then, Torres?”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He lined the head of his cock with your pussy and sank deep inside of you. You threw your head back in pleasure as your walls fluttered around him.

“You’re real fuckin’ tight, honey. Feels so good.”

Your nails bit into his shoulders as you bucked your hips into his. “Fuck me, Joaco.”

His hips moved against yours slow at first. He circled his hips and thrusted in and out of you at a torturous pace. He snickered at your needy whines and mewls. “Such a greedy pussy you have.” His hips snapped against yours and you gasped. “Makes me think nobody treats your pretty pussy like they should. Is that what it is, baby?”

Your head lolled from side to side and your words faded into moans. Then, his hips rutted into you at a brutal pace and a swelling orgasm built in your belly. Spots darkened your sight and one of your hands fisted his hair. “I’m going to cum!”

Joaquín took his lips from the hollow of your neck. “I’m almost there, baby, hold on.” He pressed his forehead against yours and rutted harder into you. When his thrusts got sloppier, he let out a groan and you felt his cock twitch inside of you as you chased after your own climax.

He collapsed on top of you, hard pants mixing with soft chuckles. He lifted his head and pressed a kiss to the apex of your collarbones. “Nikki said something about you moving back to the city.”

You hummed. “She told me that you were planning to stay in the city.”

“I technically moved back a few weeks ago. I haven’t told Sam or Steve yet.”

You brushed a few curls from his sweat-damp forehead. “I might need a place to crash for a few days until my stuff arrives.”

One of his hands gripped your ass, softly kneading the skin. “Or you could stay for as long as you want and we could see where this goes.”

“You’re sure?”

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “I’ve never been more sure about anything else. I meant it when I said that I think you’re incredible. If I can keep you with me for as long as I can, I will.”

You smiled. “Okay.”

“Seriously?” He cupped your cheek, your name a light chuckle on his tongue. “You want to try with me?”

As you opened your mouth to answer, a knock came upon the door. Joaquín groaned and rested his head against your shoulder. “It’s probably a noise complaint.”

“You go answer, then. It was mostly you.” You smacked him in the face with a pillow. “Fine, fine! I’m getting up!” You let out a low whistle as he padded across the room, completely naked, and went to open the door. You couldn’t hear who the other voice was but you figured it wasn’t serious from Joaquín’s belly laugh.

“Who is it?”

He shut the door and came back into view, your sister’s bouquet in his left hand. “I don’t know if I should laugh or be offended.”

You rolled your eyes. “They think they’re so funny.”

“I don’t know, baby, maybe we’ll be next.” Joaquín set the bouquet on the nightstand and climbed back into bed, pulling you against him. “I think we’d make a great married couple.”

“Let’s get through me staying with you before we jump straight to marriage, Casanova.”

“You didn’t say no.”

You smiled. “We’ll discuss it.”

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — not gon' hold y'all, this made me fall in love with joaco something fucking fierce

#galatially #the way that i want you #joaquín torres #joaquín torres x black!reader #the falcon #the falcon x black!reader

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