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Dearest reader,
I’m not sure how it happened but tonight Logan sank his canine teeth into the side of my neck. He was most likely out for blood, as I probably pissed him off. I mean, during dinner I did bring up the Jean/Scott fic I read last night and he kicked me under the kitchen table.
After dinner, he turned on the Flames game and we drank some beer, cuz you know, we’re just two Canadian dudes, sitting on a sofa, two feet apart because we’re not gay. But I was feeling a little silly, as I often ammm , and I wanted to see what Ol’ Wolvie would do if I told him I am now an Oilers fan.
With one hand holding the neck of his beer, he shoved his fist in front of my face and extended his middle frightening, yet stunning claw. And you know me, dear reader, there is a significant delay between when I speak and think. So I let a sultry, sexy “ snikt” fall from my mouth and let the kt drag against the roof of my mouth. (I don’t know why I did, I just thought it would be funny. Kinda like when you pull your boxer shorts down and you go boiiing! Hello! Boner alert!)
Logan looked at me for a moment and snakt! He immediately retracted his middle claw. Before he could make a move, I grabbed his big ol’ honey badger paw of a hand to inspect his meaty, fleshy sheath. Watching the entry points heal within seconds, I gently touched the space between his knuckles.
“Logan, I have a question for you,”
He grunted as he sipped his beer.
“Do the tip of your claws tingle when you’re horny?”
And that beautiful motherfucker was so fast, he thrusted his fist towards my face and extended all three claws, centimeters from my face! (He coulda’ taken my eyes out!)
“Why don’t you touch it and see what happens?” He glared at me, eyebrows narrowed and I swear I heard him growl. Oh man, I love it when he looks at me with those light-green eyes and underbite snarl.
I lifted my mask and carefully pulled my gloves off with my teeth. He watched me as I traced my index finger over the thick spine of his claw, and oh-so clumsily pricked my finger. A bead of blood began to pool on my fingertip, but the cut healed faster than you can say biblioteca. I brought my finger to my lips and licked it with the tip of my tongue.
Logan tilted his head and continued to watch me. So, I licked the tip of his claw to see what would happen.
(Alright.... Unreliable narrator here, I guess this is how it happened. But is it a crime to be a little slutty sometimes? Take me away to horny jail, I’m guilty!)
Blood pooled in my mouth, and suddenly Logan was on top of me, claws next to my head and embedded into the arm of the sofa. He pulled down the collar of my cherry-red suit and sank his canine teeth into my neck. Ohh, boy a shiver as cold as a Canadian snowstorm shot down from my ears to my toes, especially lingering on my [bleep]!
And I moaned. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. His scruffy mutton chops scratched against my delicate, sensitive, scared skin. He smelt like tobacco, leather, beer, and Irish Spring soap. And his weight on top of me, oohh, he’s a man alright.
I might have made the move first, bringing my lips to his. His kisses were hard and hungry, his tongue tracing over the fullness of my bottom lip and nipping me with his teeth. His lips were surprisingly plush for someone who was tight-lipped and snarling all the time. I ran my hands up his broad shoulders, reached for the forbidden ear tufts, and tugged. He moaned in my mouth, and I rolled my hips against his.
Dear reader, it was not a banana in his pants, nor mine. But I felt something girthy, large, and...
Goal horns. Fucking NHL goal horns. Just like when you shake a bag of treats and your cat comes running, Logan immediately stopped kissing me and lifted his body off of mine. Grabbing the remote and his beer, he took a swig and turned up the volume.
“Fuckin’ A, bub. We’re in overtime, sit up, we gotta watch this.”
Until next time dear reader,
♥ Deadpool