The Bet - Logan Howlett x Reader
<b>AN: This was a request for a good, sinful friend, who waited ever so patiently for me to build muse (by watching all of the X-Men films without any pants on), and for that I am so grateful! My apologies for its inherent shite-ness, and I do hope you enjoy. It’s not set at any particular point during the cannon story line, so feel free to plop yourself at whatever point you like! Part 2 will be up as soon as I’m done dousing myself in holy water.</b>
<b>Trigger warnings: Swearing, alcohol, mentions of sexy-time, talk of dong, mention of orgasmos, talk of viagra, talk of domination, mentions of rough sex, mentions of gambling.</b>
There is no doubt; extremely stressful days at the office call for equally extreme sessions at the bar.
“What’s the cheapest drink I can get with the highest alcohol content?“ You ask flatly too exhausted to register even the slightest bit of embarrassment as the man next to you guffaws into his own glass upon overhearing your request. Ignoring him, you instead focus on the server’s bemused expression, maintaining your stone-cold facade.
"One shot of tequila coming up.” He mutters, his fascination with you evident in his searching gaze. You don’t blame him. Relatively young and formally dressed, you’re far different from his usual clientele, which seem to all be older, dark, brooding hobo types.
"Make it two.“ You shoot back as you shrug off your jacket, trying to maintain your calm, casual demeanor as the oppressiveness of the grimy dive bar hits you for the first time. You take a quick look around as you settle onto your bar-stool, your legs dangling above the floor, a telltale sign that you’re barely old enough to be there. The place is almost pitch black, the air is thick with smoke. You still manage to make out the silhouettes of numerous hunched figures, and most clear to you is the man beside you, illuminated by a dim lamp above his head.
Your attention is drawn back to the bar as your drinks are poured hastily before you. You wrinkle your nose as the putrid smell of tequila hits your nostrils, but still you manage to slide a ten dollar bill across the counter gratefully. Beginning your pre-shot ritual of deep breaths and erratic hand movements, you brace yourself for the wonderfully toxic experience to come. You grasp one glass firmly in your fist, your eyes wide in anticipation, and you swear that you can feel your liver quiver in fear as yo-
"I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” You stop, turning to the source of the interruption. The man beside you. Taking a drag from his cigar, he continues.
"Not two at once. You’re tiny. I don’t wanna have you pukin’ all over me.“
Despite your annoyance at his patronising sentiments, you find yourself melting into a puddle in your seat. It’s only now that you’ve noticed his eyes, his sculpted jawline subtly masked by a dark, unusually trimmed beard. Not only is he ridiculously ruggedly handsome, but he’s older too, something that piques your interest far more than you’d like to admit.
Needless to say, you’re at a loss for words and instead you do what any sane girl would do in order to remain composed in such a situation. You quickly down both shots, forgetting the lemon and salt completely, before slamming the empty glasses triumphantly on the counter. You hear a sharp intake of breath beside you.
"I’ll get the mop.” mutters this mysterious brooding lumberjack, as he takes a swig from his own drink.
"I promise you, that won’t be necessary.” you manage to retort as you feel the alcohol hit your system with a satisfying shudder.
"f it comes to that, I’ll aim for that asshole who tried to smack my ass when I walked in.“ He smiles at this, and you congratulate yourself- he doesn’t strike you as the kind who does this often.
"Young female ass is quite the novelty in here, that was probably the most action the old fuck has had in 20 years.” You laugh out loud at this, throwing your head back and swaying dangerously on your bar-stool, consciously allowing your skirt to ride up your thighs ever so slightly.
"And this conversation is what - the most action you’ve had in about 5?“ You reply with a smirk, your gaze falling to his hands, one clutching his glass, the other, his cigar. Fuck, even his hands are attractive. Thick and coarse looking, you begin to imagine how they feel ghosting over bare skin…
"Mhmm, you got it bub, I’m semi hard just talking to you.” He grins back at you, his voice heavy with sarcasm. You notice his gaze shamelessly wandering down your body, pausing ever so slightly over your thighs. You watch him study you and smile to yourself. This was not the kind of situation you had expected walking in here, but you were more than happy with how this was going.
"Hard from small talk, eh?” You raise your eyebrows. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Just be thankful you’re not on Viagra.”
He chuckles darkly and meets your eyes for the first time.
“Fuck, you’re cruel.” he mumbles, searching your gaze. You laugh softly and lean close enough to him to whisper.
“So how long do you last eh? 30-40 seconds?”
“On the contrary sweetheart, I reckon you wouldn’t last half as long as I would. Not with me.” He takes another swig.
“Can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that.” you sigh, fiddling with one of your empty shot glasses.
“Can’t tell you how many times I’ve dealt with brats like you, bub.” he grunts.
“Look, I’m just sayin’, 3 minutes of grunting in the dark and disappointment may be your cup of tea, but it certainly ain’t mine, bub.” You attempt an imitation of his accent on the last word, but it fails to impress. Despite you broaching the topic in good humour, you can tell that you are genuinely pissing him off, his eyes are dark and his jaw clenched - and fuck, do you like the look of him when he’s angry. You let out a small giggle, as you continued to stare each other down.
"You’re so sure of yourself! What your secret, giving yourself whiskey-dick with that drink?“ you ask, batting your lashes at him, a part of you genuinely curious. He stubs out his cigar in a nearby ashtray and leans further towards you, his body looming over yours threateningly.
“Your kind are all the same, all bark and no bite.” The competitive edge to his voice stirs something in you, and you ghost your lips across his jawline.
His voice is a grunt now, frustration edging into his face and voice slowly but surely. He seems to be used to getting his way, and you’re sure as hell not going to give it to him.
“A bet then.” You decide, straightening up. “10 bucks says I can make you cum before I do.”
“I’m not interested in money.” He’s growling now, and his eyes still haven’t left yours. “You cum first, and I get to do as I please, for as long as I please.”
You feel yourself shudder, and a small part of you wonders if you’re way in over your head. Still, you are confident ; you have biology on your side.And worst comes to the worst, you get a good fucking… everybody wins! Still, you can’t help but feel somewhat terrified.
“Fine.” you manage. “And if I win?”
“That won’t happen sweetheart, I can assure you.” he smiles again, and this time it’s full of menace.
You pause, taking in a shaky breath.
“Alright, its a bet.” you chirp, feigning confidence, holding out your hand for a shake.
“Its a bet.” He snarls, grabbing your hand and pulling you in for a rough kiss on the cheek.