daddy's home 😏

“Oh really?” His hand slipped under the material of your bikini bottoms. “Well, I suppose you can’t be too overly cautious with sun safety.”

“Is that why you’re stroking my ass?”

“Fabric tends to move.” He pressed kisses to the side of your neck. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“You’ll end up in jail if you carry on with this display of affection.”

“It’ll be worth it.” With your back covered, you turned back around and let him put sunscreen on your front, paying particular attention to your thighs and chest. “There, you are protected.”

“Can I do you now?”

“What would be the point? I don’t get sunburn.”

“I think I should return the favour.” You raised your eyebrow, and Logan got the message.

Logan handed you the bottle, and you squirted a generous amount on your hand. You started on his broad back, feeling the hard muscle ripple under your palms. “You feel just as good.” You slipped your hand under the waistband of his swimtrunks, and gave one of the firm glutes a squeeze. “As you said, you can never be too cautious.” With Logan sufficiently protected, you put the suncream aside and grabbed your limoncello spritz. “I am glad that I scheduled some relaxation time.”

“You ever thought about doing something spontaneous?”

“Our first date was spontaneous. In fact, if I had not spontaneously left my apartment, you and I would have never met.”

“Okay, fair enough. I still think we could do something not on schedule. Hand me your notebook.” You reached into your beach bag and handed the book to Logan, who read your itinerary with interest and a slight hint of amusement. “So you want to look around the town tomorrow, but I am sure we have been to enough churches.”

“So what do you suggest instead?”

“I think I might surprise you.”

“With what?”

“It would not be a surprise then, princess.” He leaned over and kissed you softly. "Trust me."

“Speaking of being spontaneous, how about we take a dip in the ocean?”

“Now? We just put a load of sunscreen on?”

“And? I don’t think it will stop you from putting it back on.” You stood up and held out your hand. “Come on. It will be like Thanksgiving last year. Except the water will be warmer.”

“And a lot more people around.”

“Oh please, they were barely paying attention when you were putting your hand all over my tits.”

The sea was not so busy as you entered the warm, clear water and swam out ten metres from the shoreline. You stopped and stood in front of Logan and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“This feels nice,” you commented. You let out a laugh at the salt water making Logan's hair all sticky. “I don't understand how your hair became like this. When I saw that old photo of you, you had longer hair.” 

“Dunno. Just put it like this one day, and it stuck.” 

“Odd. That said, whenever I grab onto your hair, it feels stiffer, and I know you don’t use anything special.”

“You saying you want me to change my hair?”

“Oh absolutely not. It helps me find you in a store, along with how tall you are.” Logan chuckled and pulled you in for a kiss, which you reciprocated gladly. You moaned into his mouth. “I think we need to take this back to the hotel room. I think the sun is making me delirious.”

-o-

You gasped as your back hit the cold tiles Logan lightly pushed you against as water rained down on you both. Without warning, he pressed a bruising kiss to your lips and grabbed your ass, squeezing the flesh tightly. You moaned into his mouth and found purchase on his forearm.

“Regained your senses yet?” he asked, lips dragging along your jaw. 

“Just about,” you answered, a low hum forming as he nipped the skin under your ear. 

“Might have to knock them out of you again.” You giggled as he kissed down your body, pressing his lips to your appendectomy scar almost reverently. He lifted your left leg so it rested over his shoulder as he sat on his knees, his hand still holding onto your ass to keep you standing upright. He blew warm air onto your pussy, and smirked as you flinched. “Fucking beautiful.”

Logan brushed his nose against your clit, and he sucked on your flesh, his tongue flicking out and circling your entrance. Your head rolled back and clutched the dark hair between your thighs, pushing him further into your mound. 

“Feels so good,” you moaned. Instinctively, your hips began grinding against his lips and nose to gain more stimulation. 

“So needy,” he whispered. “Already quaking against my tongue.” 

After a year of sleeping together consistently, Logan knew all the spots that drove you wild and could make you come instantly. However, he found more pleasure in the endeavour than getting you over the edge quickly to satiate his undoubtedly hard cock. 

He pulled his lips away and kissed your thigh. You whimpered at the loss of contact, but Logan would not keep you suffering for long. He moved his free hand and placed his middle finger at your entrance. Your whole body clenched as he pushed in the finger, only reaching the knuckle before returning his lips to your clit. 

“Fuck,” you groaned, fingers gripping his hair tighter. Your heel dug into his back, and you had to find the hair rail to support yourself as he added his index finger. 

“I won't let you fall,” he whispered. “I got you.” 

You nodded and let go of the bar. 

He pushed the fingers in deeper and curled them in just the right spot. Your walls squeezed around the digits, and he grinned, especially since your moans were starting to hit a crescendo.

He flicked and rolled your clit with his tongue, and thrust his fingers in faster. You were fighting back the orgasm, but you were betrayed by your throaty moan and chanting, “Yes, yes, yes.” You stilled, then shook, eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

Logan grinned and pulled out his fingers, sucking on them before moving his lips to your entrance and lapping at your very sweet release, working you through the wave. However, something snapped, and he gripped your hips to push your pussy deeper into his mouth. 

“Lo, it's too much,” you cried. 

“I know, baby. Just one more for me,” he growled. He found the spot where all he had to do was flick, and you shattered again, this time your thighs nearly crushing Logan’s skull, and you let out a guttural moan. You nearly slumped, but Logan kept you standing, even as he pulled away and stood up. “You taste too damn good, princess.” 

Wordlessly, you kissed him deeply, the taste of you on his lips already starting to set you off again. You giggled against his lips as you felt his length press against your hip. He picked you up so your legs could wrap around his hips and he could align himself. 

With one snap of the hips, he sheeted himself fully inside of you and groaned as your warm walls clenched around him. You buried your head in his neck as he began moving, nails beginning to dig into his back. His chuckle was almost maniacal. “Go on, try to mark me up.”

“Such an asshole,” you grumbled. 

“I just like the challenge.” Never one to lie, Logan drove his hips into yours so hard that you clawed at his back. “Fuck!” 

At that point he grabbed your wrists and set about fucking you with such a punishing rhythm that you were sure you were going to die by the impending release building in your spine, belly and every vital organ. With you pressed securely against the wall, he reached for your clit and strummed it like a fine-tuned guitar.  

You faltered, and white sparks blasted behind your eyes, and you barely registered Logan stilling and growling into your ear as he filled you with his load. Your head rested on his shoulder, and you tried to regain any sense of cognition. Logan let go of your wrists and commented, “I really did fuck you senseless.”

“Cocky,” you mumbled. 

Logan chuckled and pulled out. “I suppose we should actually clean ourselves and get an early night. Big plans tomorrow.”

-o-

7th August

“Wait? A hike?” you asked when Logan stood in front of a sign that read, ‘Benvenuti sul Sentiero degli Dei’. “That was your surprise?”

“Trust me on this,” Logan said, pulling a backpack around his shoulders. “You got enough water?” 

You opened your canvas bag and pulled out a large bottle of water. It was going to be hot today (like most days had been), and you began to wonder if your partner was insane for doing this. That said, it was 10:30, and the heat had not quite hit yet. 

About ten minutes into the walk, you regretted doubting Logan’s plans; the views were gorgeous. Between the blue sea and the terrain, it was one of the best hikes you had ever done, even after the heat began to set in. Logan kept a couple of paces behind you, mainly so he could quickly help if you became woozy or strayed too close to the edge. 

A couple of hours into the hike, you reached a clearing with an abandoned farmhouse, and Logan said, “Hey, let’s take a break.”

“Really? Maybe I have just hit summit fever, but I can keep going.” 

“I know, but it’s nearing lunch, and I know you’ll end up flagging if you don’t eat.” 

You looked around. “There isn’t any cafe or anything.”

Logan opened his bag and pulled out two wrapped sandwiches. “That’s why I was up at the crack of dawn. I went to the deli down the street.”

You found a shaded area under a tree, and Logan handed you one of the packages. “I got you ham, mozzarella, tomato and basil.”

You took a bite. You were not much of a sandwich person, but there was something about the saltiness of the ham, the freshness of the tomato and basil, and the creaminess of the mozzarella that hit just right. 

“You were right. If we had stuck to the plan, we would not be seeing all this beauty,” you commented.

“See. And you doubted me.”

“I did not doubt you. I just sometimes function better if I know what is coming. Call me a control freak.”

“I don’t think you’re a control freak, [y/n]. I think you’re someone who decided to move across the country and had to build a life in a new city, and having a plan made that easier. It’s just harder to let go when you have done everything for yourself since you were eighteen.”

“Funny, that’s what my therapist said. However, I think I am getting better at it. It means I am able to deal with the unexpected. Whatever life throws my way, I can handle it.”

Logan smiled and let you rest your head on his shoulder. “I am so proud of you, princess.” He leaned in and kissed you softly. “You are definitely not the same person I met.”

You weren’t. So much of the bitterness and anxiety had faded into the back of your mind, and you were capable of seeing a larger picture. 

“Well, sex in water ironically tends to dry things out. And on the beach… To quote Star Wars, the sand is coarse, rough, and irritating, and it gets everywhere.”

“You are such a nerd.”

“I’m your nerd, and you would not have me any other way.”

“Damn right.” He leaned in and kissed you. “Anything else?”

“I had thought about something involving a chair, some sort of restraint, and me riding you until you beg underneath me.” You saw something of a glimmer of interest in Logan’s eye. “Does not seem as though there are many cons to that.”

“Well, you know I will always try to make you happy.”

“Seriously? You’re okay with being restrained?”

“Sure.” The announcer informed the passengers that Napoli was the next station. “We can talk later about this.”

You got the connection to Pompeii Scavi just in time and stored your bags, ready for your transfer to Sorrento later. You quickly found your tour group and entered the archaeological site at Foro di Pompeii. 

“Pompeii was once a bustling Roman city, until 79 A.D. when Mount Vesuvius erupted and eradicated many things in its path. The ash preserved the buildings, artwork and even aspects of daily life,” the guide explained. “It lay under the ash until 1559, when, during a construction project, workers stumbled across the ancient walls. However, excavations did not begin until the mid-1700s under the command of Charles III of Spain.”

You grabbed your digital camera and took a photo of the Temple of Jupiter. You could not help but be mesmerised by the sight of crumbled buildings, still just about preserved as a testament to the power of nature and the vulnerability of humans. It truly was remarkable in the blue sky. 

“You know, I have never thought about the extent of my powers,” you whispered to Logan as you walked through the House of Menander. “I think I have only really experienced memories from living beings. I think the furthest I went back was when I touched your dog tags. Or maybe…”

“Maybe…” Logan replied. 

“You remember when I had that session with Charles that had to be cut short because my appendix was inflamed? I remember seeing a beach. I might have glanced at some outfits and hair. I would say early sixties.”

“Do you think you could see anything if you touched something here?”

You had gotten better at channelling your energy into preventing things you did not want to see, but not so much the reverse. Besides, you doubted that you would be able to find or touch anything here that could show you anything from nearly two thousand years ago.

You shook your head. "I don't think they're that strong. And to be honest, I don't know how comfortable I would feel if I saw the moment a person was suffocated under ash."

Logan nodded and held your hand as you followed the tour group through the Antiquarium, Orto Botanica, Teatro Piccolo, Stabian Baths and Macellum Market. By the time you finished the tour, it was just around lunchtime, so you settled for a Neapolitan pizza at one of the on-site restaurants. 

“Who knew something so simple could be so effective?” you commented when finished.

-o-

“That view is gorgeous,” you commented, taking a picture of the blue, clear ocean and the Bay of Naples. “I certainly would not be against waking up to this every day.”

“That’s the California girl talking,” Logan said, his arms wrapped around your waist. “Maybe that is something we could consider about the house.”

“Not a lot of beaches like this in Westchester.” You hummed as Logan started pressing kisses along your neck. “What are you doing?”

“Thought maybe you would want to take the weight off your feet since we’ve been walking all morning.”

“We were sitting for nearly three hours on the train.” You twisted your head and kissed him softly. “Maybe later. I want to see this town in all its glory, and get some of these souvenirs out of the way.”

You had your list, and you easily knocked out a ceramic jug depicting the Bay of Naples (for your mother) and several bottles of limoncello (one for your sister, one for your best friend, Claire, and one for yourself). 

“Oh, we are going to need to think of something for Jean and Scott’s baby,” you said as you were paying for a scarf.

“I’m pretty sure they’ve done a baby registry list.” 

“And have you looked at it?”

“It’s not due until December; we have time.”

“What about one of those playmats with the dangly things? Babies love those.” You stopped and looked up at a sign. “Is that a Christmas shop?”

“You want to go in?”

You shrugged. Curiosity got the best of you, and you entered the store. Immediately, you were struck by the kitsch ornaments. It was garish in a way you could not quite explain, and you kind of loved it. 

“Christ,” Logan commented. “It’s as if Morph was allowed to decorate the Christmas tree by themselves.”

You laughed and took a picture. “You know if we move in before Christmas, we're going to need a tree. And some decorations. So we need something either white, green, gold or red.” 

“You okay with all that clashing?”

“I’m not that fixated on co-ordinating.”

“You bought me a purple tie for Jean and Scott’s wedding because it matched your dress.”

“That is complementing, not coordinating. Besides, I am not as bad as my mother; she would freak if we had anything like this on the tree.”

“So, we’re definitely at peace with Christmas then? Especially since you would be willing to go home for the holidays.”

You shrugged. “I think last year’s rehab might have worked.” Eventually, you settled on a bauble with a scenescape that was decorated with all the colours you wanted. Something caught your eye, and you picked it up. It was a Santa riding a Vespa. “Maybe we can get Jubilee the Vespa she wanted.”

“She’ll kick our ass.”

“I think she’ll see the humour in it.”

With the items paid for, you found a bar where you grabbed some breadsticks, caprese salad and a cured meat platter to help absorb the limoncello shots you had drunk. 

“You’re really going to try drinking like you’re twenty-one?” Logan asked. 

“No, this is my last one. I think I learned from that incident before the wedding.”

“It was not so bad. You told me you loved me for the first time.”

“Could have done without the hangover the next day. I honestly wish I had done it differently. It’s not exactly romantic. You did it so much better.”

“It’s not a competition, [y/n].”

“I know. I think after everything you have been through, you deserved better than a drunken confession.”

“How would you have done it otherwise?”

“I don’t know. It’s not something you can necessarily plan like a marriage proposal. Can’t exactly pencil it in on a random Tuesday at 15:00.”

“Not sure most people would do proposals at that time anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, “You know what I mean.”

As Logan listened to you talk about the plan for the next day, something turned in his mind. You had mentioned a marriage proposal, and with you finding a house and discussing your birth control, it seemed like it was something you would want in the future. Perhaps not now, but at some point in the next year.

“Logan,” you said, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“Sorry, you said something.”

“Yeah, I was going to say we should get back to the hotel.”

“You tired already?”

“No, I just have other plans.”

-o-

“You sure that's not too tight?” you asked as you tugged on the scarf tied around Logan's wrists. 

The moment you entered the hotel room, the idea you spoke about that morning had not left. So when you suggested it to Logan, he was on board with trying. You pulled off his t-shirt, found a chair and made him sit down with his hands behind his back. 

“I can still feel them,” Logan answered as you walked around to face him. Instantly, heat pooled in your belly. The restraints had widened his upper body, leaving his chest pushed forward. He looked absolutely delicious like this. 

“I am a genius,” you commented. You sat astride his lap and cupped his cheek. “I could leave you like this for the rest of the night. Just sit on the bed, touch myself while you watch.”

“You wouldn’t,” he growled. The slight bulge between his legs betrayed the demeanour. 

You smirked and climbed off him, not even kissing him despite how close your lips were to his. You pulled off the blue short-sleeved shirt and the white t-shirt underneath. Logan could only gape at your cobalt plunge bra with straps over the bust and under it. 

“Is that new?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I thought I would mix things up,” you answered, unbuttoning your jeans and revealing the matching thong. “You approve?”

Logan’s pupils were blown, and he began to tug at the scarf. “Damn it, you are good at knots.”

You stood directly in front of him and put your finger under his chin. “Ballet shoes have to stay on somehow.” Finally, you kissed him, almost too sweetly. “You want to put your hands on me, Lo?”

“Fuck yes,” he groaned. 

“Well, it’s a good thing that you have a very talented mouth.” 

You straddled his lap again and reached behind you to unhook your bra. Logan’s eye drifted to your breasts, and his mouth watered as you levelled them with his lips. He kissed your solar plexus, and you hummed at the feeling of his stubble brushing your skin. You started grinding your core against his hard bulge, your clit rubbing against the fabric of his jeans. 

“You may be more desperate than I am,” he muttered as he kissed across your chest, searching for your nipple. You rested one hand on the back of his head as he flicked and sucked the bud, feeling it hardening under his worship. Each roll of his tongue set your nerves alight, and your core throbbed in desperation to be filled. The rough material of his jeans was not stimulating enough. 

Your hand moved under the thin strip of fabric barely covering your soaked pussy, and you gasped as you stroked your slightly swollen clit. Your other hand gripped the hair on the back of his head and pulled him away from your breast. Logan looked up at you, frowning at your euphoric expression. It was killing him that he was not the one causing it with his fingers or mouth.

“Mouth open,” you whispered. You pulled your hand from your thong and put two soaked fingers against his lips. He sucked your juices from the digits before you returned the hand to your core. “I want you to watch me come.”

You slipped a finger inside and found leverage on Logan’s broad shoulder with your other hand. “You’re playing with fire, princess,” he groaned. 

“I know. Don’t worry, I’ll see to you when I am finished,” you panted as you built a steady pace, curling your finger against the right spot. Your head rolled back, pushing your chest forward. It gave Logan a small advantage, and he attached his lips to your other breast. “Oh fuck.” 

A second finger slid inside you, filling you just enough for your walls to start contracting around the digits. Your thumb pressed against your clit, sparks shooting along your spine from your core and your breasts. Logan sucked and nibbled on the hardened nub, desperately trying to provide some contribution to your impending orgasm. Frustratingly, you were so used to Logan’s thick fingers and sizable girth that you needed a third finger push to get you to where you wanted. 

“You know you could let me go and I can fill you up just right,” he growled as he nipped your collarbone.

“I know you can.” You moved your finger under his chin so your eyes locked on each other. “I am - oh shit - I am having too much fun watching you squirm.”

You gave three hard thrusts of your fingers and gasped hard, your body shaking with the wave unleashed over you. Logan lifted his leg, placing it between your thighs, and you pulled your finger out so you could ride out your orgasm on the hard quad. You rewarded his efforts by sticking your slick fingers into his mouth. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled. You stopped your grinding and noticed the sizable bulge against your thigh. Wordlessly, you unbuttoned his jeans and shuffled to help lower them, his cock hard and leaking from the tip. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” you commented in mock sympathy. You gripped the length and rolled your thumb over the bubbling tip. His head flew back, and his eyes clenched. “You really want me to sit on it, don’t you?”

“Please, princess.” His eyes opened, and they looked so desperate that you melted instantly. You stopped pumping him, pulled the crotch of your panties aside, and lined up his tip with your entrance. You sank onto him, both gasping in relief at finally being joined. However, you did not move. “Seriously?”

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence. When he glared at you, you giggled and kissed him. “Okay, I'll stop teasing.” 

You raised your hips and lowered yourself back down the length. Logan moaned against your lips, and you created a steady pace, not wanting to exhaust yourself too soon. You had to admit that it was a relief for yourself as well to feel him stretch your walls and hit just the right spot. 

“Oh my…” you whispered, your back arching. 

Logan's hot breath panted against your damp neck, the chill sending shivers down your skin. His hips met you from below, trying to reach the peak you had so cruelly kept snatching from him. You ground your clit against the hair around his cock, the angle making it easy. 

You bounced harder, the chair shifting under you to the point where you started to wonder if it would break under both your weight. You gripped the back of his head and smashed your lips to his. Your other hand pressed your finger against your clit, rubbing it slowly in contrast to the pace you were fucking him. 

“Fuck, I am gonna come,” he groaned, forehead resting against yours.

“Come on, baby, let go for me,” you coaxed, your walls fluttering around him. 

He let out a low grunt and filled you with his hot, white seed, and you clenched hard around him as another release hit its peak. You clung to him as you shook violently, your body weight pressing Logan into the chair. 

After what seemed like forever, you lifted your head and laughed softly. Logan chuckled and kissed you softly. 

“Fuck that was intense,” you said. 

“You telling me,” Logan replied. 

You climbed off him, whimpering at the empty feeling and went to untie him. Logan stretched his free arms and put them around you when you straddled him again. 

“You did so well, all things considered,” you whispered tiredly. 

“Certainly was another thing off your list,” he replied, putting his hands on your ass and then lifting you as he stood. “Unless there is a reciprocal element.” 

After the second coffee perked you up, you ambled hand in hand to Largo di Torre Argentina. You held up your digital camera and took pictures of the temples’ ruins while the guide explained, “So, this site was named after Argentoratum, which is in what is now known as Strasbourg. The temples are identified by the first four letters of the alphabet since we don’t have official confirmation of which temple is which.” She continued explaining the purposes of each temple as you walked around, still captivated by the site. “Most famously, this is the site where Julius Caesar was assassinated on 15th March, 44 BC. There is no evidence that Mark Antony spoke over Caesar’s brutalised corpse with Shakespeare’s famous words, ‘I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.’ However, this spot here is where Shakespeare set one of his most famous tragic scenes.”

“Still remember the AP literature essay I had to write for this,” you commented. “Had to explain how the scene of Caesar's assassination presented how Rome and its people are affected by conflict.” 

“Stabbing someone twenty-three times will do it,” Logan replied. “Probably have gotten more than that in one go.” 

“If only Caesar had your abilities. History would not be the same, and there would be one less Shakespeare play in the world.” 

“I’m sure he could have found some other king called Henry to write about.” 

“You’re not wrong. There were eight of them in England alone.”

When the tour finished, the next stop was Piazza Navona, where you could sit down at one of the cafes, shelter from the sun and admire the fountains. You ordered an americano this time since your jet lag was starting to act up. 

“Keep drinking that, you’re not going to sleep tonight,” Logan commented. 

“Might metabolise by 19:00,” you countered. “It’ll be the last one. Believe me, I need to have a decent night’s sleep. Sitting up on a plane is not exactly a comfortable position - as cosy as your shoulder is.” 

Since it was nearing the afternoon, you decided to head to the Pantheon before the lunchtime rush around the church. Logan stood and watched as you took in the oculus at the peak of the rotunda. You caught his eye and asked, “What?”

“You’re cute when you’re mesmerised,” he answered with a small smile. “I don’t get that excitement from things.”

“Well, you do. Usually, it involves me dressed in lace and not a lot else.”

“It is certainly a work of art, princess.” He took out your camera. He snapped a photo, trying to capture the candidness of your pensive expression as you looked at Raphael's tomb. “What are you thinking about?”

“Just trying to translate the epitaph.”

“Baby, you don't speak Latin. No one does.” 

“Well, French is a descendant of Latin.” After two minutes, you just about landed on two words before giving up and looking in the guidebook. You muttered to yourself that you should have taken up Spanish; it might have been easier with Latin and Italian. “What do you think of the church?”

“It’s… nice.”

“Really, one of the most ancient and impressive architectural achievements and all you can say is ‘nice’?” 

“When you’ve been around as long as I have, a lot of churches blend into each other. Though the giant hole in the ceiling is impressive.”

“Certainly the most impressive church I have been in so far. I didn’t realise you were religious.” 

“Probably was baptised, but to be honest, I don't even know the last time I prayed. When I was on the move, there were some priests who let me stay there and eat something. They didn't really care if I was religious or not. Just following the teachings of that guy.” 

You turned your head to the Chapel of Crucifixion. “Jesus?” 

“Love thy neighbour.” 

“If only some people actually listened to what he actually said and not what some…” You stopped yourself before you swore. “Not what some idiot twists out of context phrases to.” Logan bit back a laugh. “Hey, I ain’t getting on the news for being thrown out because of some profanity.”

After another thirty minutes of examining every detail of the Pantheon, your stomach was making loud growling noises. You went to one of the restaurants in the Piazza della Rotonda just before it started filling up for lunch. After spending most of the morning on your feet, you were prepared to eat your body weight in carbohydrates. 

“Okay, I think I am going to get the carbonara,” you said. 

“There’s a surprise,” Logan commented. 

“It’s my favourite pasta; we’re in the place where it was created,” you justified. “I’ve been dreaming of this since we booked the vacation.”

“Might try this oxtail stew pasta. Something different.”

“Are you trying to say I’m not adventurous with food?”

“No. I think you like what you like when it comes to things like Italian food, and nothing is going to change that.”

You stared at Logan. “You are saying I am not adventurous when it comes to food. We split food, and you always get something different…” Logan raised his eyebrow. “Okay, I see your point.”

“I ain’t complaining because you do have good taste, but you rarely break from the usual.” 

You looked back at the menu. “Okay, in that case-”

“Baby, listen, if you want the carbonara, eat it.”

“No, you’re right. When in Rome, do as the Romans do.”

“Murder their leader?”

“The less we say about our president, the better.”

“Ha, I’m Canadian, so he’s your president.”

“I did not vote for him!” 

After a moment, you decided on the sage ravioli to have with a white wine suggested to pair with the dish (acidic to cut through the fattiness of the butter sauce). Before Logan could order a beer, you made a point that he should try some wine with his sauce. Knowing it was only fair, he accepted a red wine. 

“How is it?” you asked. 

“Drinkable. So, what is the rest of your plan?” 

“Trevi Fountain, though it is likely going to be very busy. We might be there for a while. Then gelato on the Spanish Steps. Finally, dinner and return to the hotel.”

Your lunch arrived fairly quickly, and you were glad to have taken the risk on something different. It was delicious with the melt-in-the-mouth pasta, creamy filling and buttery sauce. You sampled some of Logan’s pasta and found it equally delicious. 

After letting your meals go down, you ambled to the fountain. You were correct; it was so busy you wondered if it was worth hanging around to throw a coin in the fountain. However, fatigue was slightly catching up with you, and you were determined to reach the front, as it might be your only chance. Logan was rather restless. He could be patient, but the crowd was likely overstimulating him. You took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze when he started getting really agitated. 

“God, I wonder how much money is in there,” Logan commented as you finally reached the front. 

“On average, there is about €3000 a day,” you answered. 

“So about two million a year.”

“It does get donated to humanitarian relief charities.” You dug into your bag and found a €1 coin. You turned around and tossed the coin over your left shoulder. 

“You telling me what you wished for?” Logan asked.

“No… I think it’s best to keep it for myself. Your turn.” 

Logan grabbed a coin and copied your actions. “If you’re not telling, I won't tell you.” 

“Good. It might come true then.” 

The final stop of the day was the Spanish Steps. Now that the lunch had settled, you were ready for some gelato to eat and watch the world go by. However, you were slightly indecisive when you were given the options of flavours. You weren’t sure whether to go for chocolate, cream, fruit or nuts. Eventually, you settled on pistachio since it looked like it was decent quality (light dusty green and not neon) while Logan went for cioccolato fondente. 

It was quite late in the afternoon, but the sun looked far from setting. You found a spot, which, while not quite the same spot Audrey Hepburn sat eating gelato in Roman Holiday, had some nice views of the city. Admittedly, your feet were hurting a little, so it was nice to sit and eat while taking in the surroundings. 

“That is some really strong dark chocolate,” Logan commented. “Good though.” 

“Mine's amazing. Very nutty,” you said. “You tired?” 

“I’m good. You know me. I can function on a couple of hours of sleep.”

“Maybe the sugar in this can perk me up.”

“How is your vertigo?”

“Not bad. I think the antihistamine helped. Or maybe that is what is making me drowsy.” 

“You know what might help: you telling me all about this place.”

It was a good idea since it could keep your mind active. “So, the steps weren’t actually built by the Spanish, but the French, since the church at the top is a French monastery. However, the Spanish embassy was at the bottom, hence why it is called Piazza di Spagna.” You took a quick bite of your gelato before it began to drip onto your hand. “John Keats died here as well, in that building just there.” You pointed to a building at the bottom of the steps. “You know, the Romantic poet.”

“So known for his love poetry?”

“Not romance, Romantic. It was more about glorifying the common man and celebrating nature and the imagination. Keats is fine. I preferred Shelley and Blake. That actually is the Keats-Shelley museum.” 

“You want to go in?”

You pondered for a moment, your feet now only just recovering. “You know, that twenty-year-old lit student is yelling at me right now. I think we should.”

After you finished your gelato, you paid the entrance fee and began looking around the house. You had to admit the college student in you was loving seeing the manuscripts, letters, and artwork. While you looked around the library, Logan stood in the doorway, just watching you. 

“You’re doing it again,” you commented without looking at him. 

“What?”

“Just staring at me.”

“I like watching you be happy.”

You walked over to him. “Is that why you agreed to all this? I know you would rather have found a beach and napped all day.”

“We’ll do that when we get to the Amalfi Coast. If you’re happy, I’m happy. I like that you like to stimulate your brain.”

“I do like stimulating my brain, but the beach does sound good as well. Especially since you will have your shirt off.”

As the sun went down, you felt yourself waning. On the way back to the hotel, you found a place that made supplì. It made for a light snack since you were still rather full from lunch (mostly from the bread you kept dipping into balsamic vinegar and oil), and it was something you could eat on the go.

“You still tired?” Logan asked as you were getting ready for bed in the bathroom. It was still quite early in the evening. 

“I think I might have gotten some wind,” you replied. You put the toothbrush in the cup and stroked over the purple satin chemise you had bought to surprise Logan. You walked to the doorway and leaned against it. “What do you think?”

Logan wasted no time in walking over to you, lifting you so your legs were around his waist and falling onto the bed. 

-o-

3rd August

You shuffled as your mind pulled you from your slumber, and you woke up on your side, facing towards Logan. His eyes were still shut, but you could tell he was on the edge of waking as well. However, your sleep-fogged brain tried to piece something together. You remembered Logan carrying you to the bed. You remembered the hot and heavy make-out session and his lips on your breasts. After that, it was blank. 

“Time is it?” Logan grumbled, eyes still shut.  

“About 06:45,” you answered. Logan fluttered his eyes open, and you smiled softly as his hazel eyes came into focus. “You’re so cute when you sleep.” 

“You’re wide awake.” 

“Yeah, it must have been an exhausting sex session last night. I slept like a log.”

“We didn't have sex last night.” 

“What?” 

“We started, but before I could take off your clothes, you passed out. Forgive me for being old-fashioned, but I don’t really like having sex with an unconscious partner.”

You covered your burning face with your hands. “Fuck, I'm so sorry.” 

Logan chuckled and kissed your shoulder. “I'm actually shocked you managed that late. I thought you were going to fall asleep on the metro.” He moved your hands away from your face. “You look awake now. And we have some time before we head to the Colosseum.” He leaned down and kissed you sweetly. You hummed softly as Logan rolled you onto your back and pressed you into the mattress. “You want me to take control?”

“I have some ideas to make it up to you for last night.” 

“Hey, I said it was not a problem. I have you right where I want you now.”

He ground his hips against yours, and you gasped. 

“Well, it did involve my mouth… That very talented mouth which you love so much.” 

You could see the cogs of his mind turning in his eyes. In a bid to convince him further, you lay soft kisses on his jaw, pulse points and Adam's apple. Your lips pressed against a spot under his ear, and he melted. He lifted his bulky weight off you and rolled onto his back, your lips still attached to his neck. You knew that it would be futile to leave a love bite on his neck, but it did not stop you from nibbling the rough skin, sucking on the same spot and licking over the mark. It faded instantly, but Logan had practically deliquesced, which was much more satisfying to watch. 

Your lips moved slowly down his chest and over his abdomen. You nuzzled the smattering of hair coating his stomach and gripped his sweatpants. He lifted his hips, and you pulled them off his body. His semi-hard member twitched as the air hit it. You kissed along his groin and smirked at his frustrated face. 

“You doing okay, Lo?” you teased, your hand reaching down to stroke his scotum.  

“You’re killing me, princess.”

“Could be worse ways to die.”

Dampening your lips, you gripped the base of his cock in your hand. You pumped him until he was fully hard and quivering, pre-come already bubbling from the tip. Logan groaned when you rubbed your thumb under the head, his hips bucking to move closer to your lips. 

You let out a low, almost evil chuckle as you witnessed his desperation. He was big, to put it mildly, not just in terms of his height, but also the muscle he had put on in the last year. It felt almost comical watching him squirm at each press of your lips against his skin, deliberately avoiding where he wanted you. 

You looked up as your lips brushed against the vein leading to his member and smiled. His chest was rising in heavy breaths, and his eyes locked on yours. They were almost pleading for you to give him mercy. You decided to give it to him. You took the head in your wet lips and sucked. Logan’s hand rested on the back of your head, not forcing, but his fingers curling into your hair encouraged you to open your mouth and move lower down the shaft. Your tongue swirled around the head and hollowed your cheeks with each bob of your head. 

“Fuck, princess,” he growled as you picked up the pace. His breath became heavier the deeper you went, and the wetter your mouth became. You swallowed and lifted your mouth for some air. Not that you were going to relent. Your lips pressed kisses along the shaft and made use of the hand on his scrotum. 

Without much warning, you returned to your ministrations, your cheeks hollowing and sucking harder. His breath was laboured, words becoming more difficult to conjugate. He was close, judging by the way his eyes were clenching. Still, you were not above prolonging the inevitable. 

“Need me to keep going?” you whispered when you pulled off with a pop. 

“Think I need to be inside you when I come,” he answered. You kissed up his damp body, taking in every flinch of his overstimulated body before reaching his lips. “Keep this on.” 

You smiled and reached for his cock again. He reached under your slip and tugged at your underwear, but before he could rip the lace, you lifted your hips so they could be pulled down your thighs. 

“Hey, I like those,” you chastised. 

“They’re a hindrance.” You rolled your eyes and pressed his tip to your wet entrance. 

You lowered yourself so you were sitting on him completely, hands pressed against his chest. You moaned at the stretch as he filled you, while Logan's eyes clenched at the feeling of your warm, tight walls fluttering around him. He placed his hand on your hip as you began to move slowly, gripping onto the soft fabric of your chemise.

“Fuck, you're the most gorgeous woman to have existed,” he said between rough breaths. You would roll your eyes at the hyperbole if he were not sincere. He never lied. If anything, he looked at you as if you were divine, and he was a mortal unworthy of you. 

He grabbed your breast and stroked your nipple through the fabric, the sensation sending tingles down towards where you were joined. Your hips moved slightly quicker, your lips crashing to his in a hot, needy kiss. The angle intensified the sensation fluttering inside you as your clit ground on the hair around his cock. 

“Oh, Lo…” you whimpered, the tip rutting just against the right spot. 

“That’s it, princess.” You bounced your hips faster, trying to chase the heat building in your pelvis. “Touch yourself.”

Your finger found your clit, and you stroked it softly, feeling it swell. Your thighs started to weaken and tremble as the tension became too much to handle. It crashed over you, nails digging into Logan’s chest. He grunted, and after a few hard thrusts, he spilt inside you, fingers pressing into your hips as you rode out the high together. 

You collapsed onto Logan’s bulky frame and panted onto his hot, glistening skin. His fingers pressed against your spine and kissed the top of your head. “Well, that certainly made up for last night.”

You snorted. “I thought that we would have had more time before I started getting too tired for sex.”

“Don’t worry, I haven’t taken it personally,” he chuckled. “Besides, you needed the sleep.” 

You lifted your hips so you were separated, and you rolled to your side of the bed. “You’ve been up just as long as I have.”

“Army training. Tend not to need as much.”

“It’s not just that. You have been restless the last few weeks.”

“I’m okay. Just some weird dreams.”

You opened your mouth, but Logan cut you off with a kiss. His hand pressed against the inside of your thigh to part them, and he crept closer to your core. A small part of your brain knew he was trying to distract you, but when he pressed a finger inside you, you forgot what you were initially going to ask. 

-o-

It was actually rather late in the morning when you managed to leave the hotel. You decided to wear a blue dress with white flowers on account of the gorgeous, albeit balmy, weather. You took advantage and walked the twenty-five minutes to the Colosseum. 

“It is insane that watching people get brutalised was a form of entertainment,” you said, taking a picture of the arena. 

“Well, they did not have television yet. Or WWE,” Logan answered. “Also, they did not have the same level of ethics we do.”

“Depends on what you deem as ethical. We never learn from history and always valorise the worst people. Even here, you can still see Caesar's and Mussolini's marks everywhere.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just thinking of my family. Both my grandfathers were stationed in Europe near the end of World War II. Dad’s father stormed the beaches of Normandy and ended up at Buchenwald, while Mom’s was part of the Italy campaign.” 

Logan sighed, “Sorry.” 

“You never sent them, so why are you apologising?” 

“Not that. This morning, I avoided talking about the dreams I’ve been having. I think they’re memories trying to break through.” 

“Oh.” 

“Been around that long that some things start blending into each other, but you know I am ex-army.” 

“I know you said you were in Japan when the bomb dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki." 

“I think I must have been in Europe as well. I just remember being on a boat and then running onto the sand with guns and things being shot at us.” You blinked. You knew Logan had lived far longer than his face suggested, but you never thought there had been some overlap in your family history. “I don't know if I met your grandfather. There were that many men, you see.” 

“To be honest, if he recognised you, he might just ask if your father or grandfather was ex-army.” 

“Yeah, certainly the easy answer.” 

“Not that difficult to believe. Almost all the men on my dad's side were in some form of military. My dad is the exception, partly due to his conscience and partly because by the time he left college, the troops were being pulled out of Vietnam.” You reached your hand for his. “I might consider spending Christmas with my family.” Logan looked up at the clear blue sky. “What?” 

“Just checking the sky isn't falling.” You shoved him playfully. “Just kidding. That is some progress there, [y/n].” 

“I know, but I have you, and after last Thanksgiving, I don’t think it could get worse.” 

In the afternoon, you spent time around the Roman Forum and Palatine Hill before venturing back to find somewhere to eat. In a bid to save the carbonara for last, you ordered gnocchi alla romana for dinner while Logan ordered the penne all'arrabbiata.

During dinner, a group of people were heading to Piazza Vittorio. You had not made strategic plans for the evening, but you got carried away by curiosity. It turned out it was an outdoor cinema where they were playing La Dolce Vita. You found a spot where you could see the screen, and you rested your head on Logan’s shoulder as you watched the film. You hadn’t seen it before, and it did take a lot of concentration to get as much detail as possible through the subtitles. However, you were content to sit in the quiet, as was Logan. 

-o-

4th August

“It’s a good thing I booked those tickets because it looks like those queues will be hours,” you said as you entered St Peter’s Basilica. You had at least chosen a linen blue dress that covered your shoulders and knees so you would not have to worry about looking disrespectful. You looked up at the ceiling. “Wow, and I thought the Pantheon was impressive.”

“I take it the Renaissance folks forgot subtle was a thing,” Logan commented. “I need the bathroom. You staying here before we tour this building?”

“Yeah, I’ll be here.” Logan squeezed your hand and left. As you glanced at one of the statues, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. You had thought you had disabled your emails, but it must have been your personal account. You opened your phone and saw it was from your gynaecologist. 

Dear [y/n],

Your contraceptive IUD is due to expire on 29th October 2005. Please contact the office to arrange a consultation.

You blinked.

Had it been ten years? It had to be right. You had been determined not to repeat your parents’ mistake when you entered a relationship in college, so you had initially used an implant. Not wanting to keep swapping it every three years, you decided to switch to the IUD (due to its longevity) since you were nowhere near ready for children. 

Looking at the email, you wondered if it was the best solution now. It was not as if you and Logan had never discussed wanting children. You were on the same page about wanting kids eventually, but now there was something that was going to push the conversation sooner than you were planning.

You okay?” Logan asked. 

“Yeah. I’ll talk about it later,” you answered. “We’re running late for the tour.”

The email did play on your mind as you walked around the Vatican. That said, you took in the wonder of the early modern art and architecture, especially the magnificence of the Sistine ceiling. It was no wonder that Michelangelo was your favourite Renaissance artist. 

“I admit that was impressive,” Logan commented. “The research helped.”

“I’m not sure Angels and Demons is the most accurate form of research,” you replied. “In fact, I am pretty sure the book was criticised for its inaccuracies in Roman geography.”

“And yet you kept it on your bookshelf…”

“I never said it didn’t entertain me.”

As the sun lowered, you found a restaurant. Finally, you were ready for your carbonara. Logan’s adventurous dish was gnocchi with ragù. 

“So, you going to talk about what happened while I was in the bathroom?” Logan asked. 

“It was just an email from my gynaecologist. My IUD is expiring in October."

“So you’ll be getting it renewed.”

You paused. “I don’t know.” You took a sip of your wine. “IUDs are a much longer commitment, and if there is a time in a year or two when we're ready for us to try for a baby, I don’t want to be going through the discomfort of having it removed again.”

“So what are we going to do in the meantime?” 

“There are options. I can go on the pill. We might have to use condoms, but I know I am certain I don't want an IUD again.” The food arrived, and you thanked the server. “Is that going to be okay?”

“It’s your body, [y/n].”

“I know, but this does involve something that is going to affect us in the future. I want a baby with you, Logan. However, right now, with us looking for a house and my new job, I would rather wait until we’re settled. I just need to know that you’re in the same place.”

Logan took a bite of his gnocchi. “I want a kid with you, but only when you’re ready. If it’s in four months when Jean has her baby, or four years, I’ll be ready.”

You smiled softly. “You’ll be an amazing father.”

“Not as much as you’ll be a great mom.”

You took a bite of your pasta. “Oh my…”

“You okay?”

Logan glared at her but let the conversation rest. In the kitchen, lunch was being prepared. It seemed that it had gone beyond sandwiches to a spread of Caesar salad, bruschetta, caprese salad, olive focaccia and a platter of cured meats, grapes, and various cheeses from what looked like Parmesan to taleggio. For mains, it was three types of pizza: margherita, goat's cheese and red onion and pepperoni. 

“What is all this for?” Logan asked. 

“The logic was to fill you both up before you end up spending $15 on a salad in the airport,” Jean explained. “Granted, I don’t know how much that will work on you, Logan, but there is more if needed. Though, between us, I just wanted an excuse to eat focaccia with the balsamic dip. The baby has been wanting it all week.”

“Could be worse,” Logan commented. “I think we’re still traumatised by the beet juice and sauerkraut concoction you made last week.”

Even Scott shuddered at that one. 

“Hey, don't knock it until you try it.”

“That's the point, I don’t want to try it.” 

About ten minutes later, you brought down Logan’s now fully packed duffel and put it in the hall alongside your suitcase.

“Great, I'm starving after that. Logan, if we're going to live together, you need to get a closet system,” you said, loading your plate with the Caesar salad and goat cheese and onion pizza.  

“What’s wrong with my current ‘system’, [y/n]?” 

“I’m pretty sure I found a pair of your boxers in a boot.”

“Have you considered having a walk-in closet?” Jean asked. 

“That’s one of the things on the list.”

“The ever-expanding list,” Logan muttered. 

Logan was not joking either. Since you two had agreed to start looking for a house together, the list of requirements for the house had become longer than the Nile. You had both agreed you wanted three bedrooms and a large garden space. However, you wanted an office, a walk-in closet and a large kitchen-lounge space. Logan was just happy with the idea of a home gym (though that would be something you could both share). You knew there would have to be some concessions since there was not going to be a home large enough and within your budget for everything you and Logan wanted. 

“You never mentioned what you thought of the house you saw on Friday,” Scott said. 

“I liked it,” Logan said. “The basement is a decent size, and it has an open-plan kitchen.”

“The second bedroom was too small though,” you added. “I think we’re going to have to find a fixer-upper. So long as there is enough for a renovation budget.” 

“You still haven’t heard back from that job interview?” Jean asked. 

You shook your head grimly. While you liked where you worked, the lack of progression was becoming rather tedious, and you wanted to find a new challenge within your skill set and develop new ones. Fortunately, through word of mouth, you found out there was a job in the legal department at Random House that was a couple of pay grades above your current salary. It provided excellent benefits and, since you had a literature degree, it was the perfect opportunity. You thought the interview went well (even though job interviews were the bane of your life), but that had happened on Thursday, and with it being Monday, you were doubtful you were going to get a response before your flight. 

“It’ll work out, princess,” Logan said, squeezing your hand.

“Well, it's not like I don't have a job,” you answered, defeatedly. 

“Okay, so here is the list of things you have to bring back from Italy,” Jubilee announced, handing a piece of paper to Logan. 

You glanced at it as well. It seemed mostly fashion-related, but something caught your eye that seemed pretty out there. “Jubilee, I don’t think customs are going to allow us to bring a Vespa back into the country.” 

“Besides, you failed your driving test,” Logan added. “Again.” 

“Hey, it was not my fault that damn dog was chasing that cat in the middle of the road,” Jubilee protested. 

“I mean, you could have just hit the brakes,” Scott muttered. 

“I was trying not to kill the dog. So you know, swerving into that bush was a good idea.” 

“Anyway, you're only getting one gift so choose wisely,” Logan said. 

“Surprise me,” Jubilee answered. 

“Helpful.” 

“Just so you know, if at any point you and Logan go to Japan, you need to bring back the entire contents of the Studio Ghibli store.”

“I mean, we would, but I already promised my nephew a suitcase of Pokémon-related stuff,” you replied. 

“Damn it.” Jubilee’s mood perked when she saw the pizza. She sat down and grabbed a couple of slices of the pepperoni.

“So, Jean, don’t you have a doctor’s appointment this week?” you asked.

“Twenty-week scan,” Jean answered. 

“Oh, is that the one where you can find out if it’s a boy or a girl?” Jubilee inquired.

“Yeah, but we’re keeping it a surprise,” Scott answered. 

“I think it’s going to be a boy anyway.”

“How?” Ororo asked. 

“There is a Chinese birth chart that can predict the gender by the month the baby is conceived and the age of the mother.”

“How much money do you want to put on it?” Remy asked, coming into the room and taking a slice of Jubilee’s pizza. 

“Yeah, gambling is against the rules Remy,” Scott informed. 

“$20,” Jubilee declared, ignoring Scott. 

“Am I invisible?”

“Oh lighten up, Summers,” Logan said. 

It seemed Morph had gotten an idea and returned with one of the whiteboards from the classroom that had five columns. The columns were headlined: name, sex, weight, hair colour and wager. 

“Thought we could up the stakes a little,” they explained. 

“I'll put $20 on it being a boy, six pounds and red-head,” you said. 

Within ten minutes, the board was filled, the betting pool coming in at over $300 (thanks to Bobby and Remy trying to outdo each other until Scott enforced a limit). You felt confident with your decision, even if you knew red hair was a recessive gene. You only hoped Scott had some in his family history for you not to be $20 down. 

You looked at your watch, “We need to get moving.”

You said your goodbyes, but before you even got out of the door, you heard Jubilee shout, “Remember the Vespa!”

 -o-

“It’s not going to ring if you keep staring at it,” Logan commented as you both stood in the check-in line. You had been checking your phone every ten seconds. 

“I’m not looking at my emails. I am just checking this message from my mother,” you said. “Gran got released from the hospital.”

Your grandmother's kitchen had caught fire on Friday, and even though your mother had told you it was only a minor burn and limited smoke inhalation, the doctors had insisted on keeping her on the geriatric ward as a precaution. 

“It was only a small burn to her hand. It shouldn’t have taken so long," Logan pondered. 

“It wasn’t that. She was disoriented and kept asking what happened. It was like she kept forgetting the conversation she just had.”

“Might be shock.” 

“Let’s hope, but she’s going to have to stay with my mother until the fire damage is cleared.”

You put your phone in your pocket and heard the attendant call you forward. You handed your passports over. Your heart hitched a little as they looked over Logan’s doctored passport. Given Logan’s biological age, it was highly unlikely that he would have had a credible birth certificate. With a little help and mild persuasion at the Canadian registry office, a new birth certificate was issued. Legally, Logan was James Logan Howlett and was born in Alberta in October 1971. Still, it was a risk given the slight fraud. 

“Any sharp objects in your baggage?" the attendant inquired.

“No,” Logan answered plainly. 

“Okay, you are both in ten-d and ten-e. Enjoy your flight.”

As you walked to security, you lightly laughed to yourself, “Do you think we should have pretended we're on our honeymoon?” 

“Think the lack of a wedding ring would have been a giveaway,” Logan answered. 

“Well, we could have eloped.” 

“Why would the attendant care if we were on our honeymoon?” 

“We might have gotten into first class.” 

It took an age to get to the conveyor belt to load your bags, jewellery, electronics and liquids. You had taken the liberty of organising Logan’s carry-on as well since you thought it would save time in the line without it being examined again. Then there was the metal detector, and you froze. How the hell was Logan going to go through without setting it off?

“I’ll take the patdown,” Logan said. “Hip replacement.”

You exhaled and passed through the scanner without an issue. The TSA officer seemed satisfied with his search of Logan to let him through. 

“See, you are not the only one prepared,” he commented as you repacked your bag. “The hip replacement excuse always works.”

“You’re certainly old enough for one. Right, we cannot spend all our money on the duty-free.”

“So long as they have cigars and good whisky, I’ll be set.”

While Logan was browsing the whiskies of the world, you looked at the different perfumes. It was probably for the best that Logan kept his distance, given his overly sensitive olfactory senses. You were sniffing a sample of Light Blue by Dolce and Gabbana, the top notes of apple, cedar and bluebells giving way to jasmine and rose, when you felt your phone vibrate. Quickly, you answered it, “Hello?”

“Hi, [y/n]. It’s Jane from Random House. Is this a good time to talk?” 

Your heart stopped. “Um… Yeah. I mean, I am in JFK, but my flight’s not for an hour and a half.”

“Excellent. Sorry we took so long to get back to you. It was actually a tough decision to make from some very strong candidates.” Your heart sank. You took a deep breath and prepared for the worst. “So after careful consideration, we decided that we would like you to work with us.” You blinked, unable to process the news. “Hello?”

“Yes, sorry,” you answered, breaking out a small laugh. “Thank you so much.”

“You did mention you would be out of the country for two weeks, so I am happy to hold off the negotiations of your contract until you return home. I just need to know the notice period again.”

“It's a month, but since I am on PTO, I might not be able to hand my notice in until I get back.”

“That’s fine. Just drop me an email when you are ready to complete the negotiation. Well done.”

“Thank you again. I’ll speak to you in a couple of weeks.” You hung up and ran to find Logan, who was inspecting a bottle of Maker’s Mark. “I got it.”

Logan smiled and pulled you in for a tight hug. “See, I told you it would work out.”

“Well, at least I am not going to be a bundle of nerves for two weeks.”

“Oh, I certainly would have found ways of making you relax.” He kissed you softly. “I think we should buy this and celebrate with it later.”

“You know we can’t open the alcohol we bring on the plane.”

“Okay, let’s find a bar and sample what they have.”

“Hold on, I want you to smell something.” You held up your wrist, and Logan sniffed it. “What do you think?”

“Might take some time to adapt.”

“Well, maybe I might pick it up in Milan. Seems a little more special that way.”

At the bar, you ordered two double Maker’s Mark and toasted to your success. “So, when do you start?”

“I have to give my notice in, so if I do that when we get back, it could be looking just after my birthday. It’s not that far from where I was working, so it won’t be a massive adjustment in the short term. It also means I can add to this house budget.” 

“I thought we were going fifty-fifty?” 

“I know.”

“I can always pay a little extra.” 

“You don't have to.” 

“You forget that I have my X-Men supplementation salary as well.” 

“Wait, you actually get paid to do that?” 

“Well, the teaching bit, yes. But if it means we can get more options on the house, then it's worth it.” 

“Or at least more of a renovation budget. Gives us more of a chance to get the house of our dreams.” 

“Passengers for the 19:55 British Airways flight 1585 to Rome Fiumicino, please make your way to gate 46. Boarding is about to begin.”

You downed the rest of your drinks and grabbed your carry-on bags. At least it was a red-eye flight so you could get a few hours of sleep. 

The flight took off without any hitches, and you settled to find a movie on the small screen in front of you and hoped the antihistamine you had taken would prevent the vertigo. About an hour and a half in, there was a slight bit of turbulence, and Logan grabbed your hand. You saw him down the glass of whisky he had ordered, and something dawned on you. 

“Since when did you have a fear of flying?” you asked quietly. 

“I don't know. I've always hated it,” Logan answered. 

“But you…” 

“Yeah, I know. Just hate the turbulence. Makes me think we're going down, especially over water.”

You laced your hand with his. “We'll be fine. It's the safest way to travel.” 

“You've never seen Ororo and Jean fly Blackbird.” The lights dimmed, and the captain announced they were dimming them for those who wanted to sleep. “Tired?” 

“I'm alright for a bit.” You looked around. Everyone around you was either asleep or wearing headphones. “Have you ever joined the Mile High Club?” 

“What?”

“You know… Sex on the plane?” 

“I don't think so. You?” 

“No. I did nearly once, but I chickened out because there were too many crew members near the bathroom.” 

“You saying you feel brave enough to try now?” 

“No… I was just curious.” That said, you were starting to warm to the idea. There wouldn't be as much traffic now that a few people were asleep and the flight attendants would only come down when needed. “It might take your mind off the turbulence…” 

“Okay, so how are we going to do this? It'll look obvious if we go in at the same time.” 

“I'm smaller than you, so I will go first. You come in two minutes.” 

You unbuckled your belt and made your way down the aisle to the bathroom near the division between business and economy. About a minute later, Logan quietly rapped on the door, and you opened up, pulled him in and locked the door. 

“Gonna have to be a quick one,” he whispered, already unbuttoning your jeans. 

“Luckily, you know how to press my buttons,” you answered, pulling him in for a kiss. 

“That I do.” 

His heavy body pressed you against the wall, and he put his hand inside your underwear. He stroked along your folds with intense concentration, trying to get you wet enough to slip one thick finger inside. 

“Fuck,” you whispered as he curled the digit. You dug your nails into the back of his neck as he set a pace quicker than usual. He added his middle finger and put pressure on your clit with his rough thumb. 

You moaned slightly too loudly, and Logan had to cover your mouth with his free hand. “Quiet.” Admittedly, he did look amused as you were coming undone at an impressive pace. He found the spot he knew would set you off and rubbed it in quick, sharp motions of his fingers until your knees buckled and eyes rolled back at the hurricane twisting inside you. “Think that might be a record,” he commented as he pulled his fingers out and lowered your jeans. 

You giggled quietly as you returned to reality, Logan loosening his belt and pulling down his own jeans. Knowing that you still had to be quick, you turned around, and you felt the tip of his cock press against your entrance. He snapped his hips forward, and you took him inch by inch until your warmth surrounded him. 

“This okay?” he asked, his hand rubbing soothing motions on your bare hip. 

“Yeah.” His other hand snaked around to press a finger against your clit, and he began to move in slow thrusts. “Fuck, that feels so good.” 

Logan nipped at your neck. “Clenching around me so hard, princess. You close already?” 

“Might still be coming from your fingers,” you answered.

“Sounds like a challenge to keep it going,” he commented, his teeth grazing your earlobe. At that point, the thrusts increased their tempo. “Always feel so good around me.” 

“Keep going.” 

The pace became almost relentless, his finger rubbing your clit so hard that it felt like it would explode at any moment. You twisted your neck to kiss him, your hand grabbing onto his hair and slightly tugging at it. 

With three sharp thrusts, you were gone. You whimpered almost pathetically into his mouth, and he groaned at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him. He stilled for a moment and clenched his eyes shut. 

You panted softly as Logan pulled out, and despite how delirious you felt, you both knew you needed to clean up before someone came looking for you both. Luckily, you had brought in some intimate wipes and in seconds, you felt a little fresher. You pulled up your jeans and said, “I'll go back first.”

Logan nodded. Before you could open the door, he pulled you close and kissed you gently. “That was certainly a good distraction.” 

You smiled. “Glad to have helped.”

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