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It wasn't often that X-Men trainees were given the privilege of a real-world, tactile mission, never mind a real-world mission with the subject of every student's dreamy whisperings, the infamous Wolverine.
When Professor Xavier offered you the part, your world turned on its axis. It was supposed to be a dream turned reality; you could get a kick-start at becoming a true member of the team, maybe gain a little more recognition from the other students at the same time.
Instead, it had been exactly two hours and eighteen minutes cramped into a shitty undercover vehicle that probably needed scrapping, the only entertainment being the click of the seat, the plastic keeping it in place having worn-down.
Mr Logan, silent and brooding as ever, just stared ahead, eyes on the rain, his forearms resting against the steering wheel and his third cigarette of the day clutched between his lips.
The rain was getting worse, battling against the front passenger window that could never fully close, spraying droplets onto the side of your face. If it got much worse Mr Logan wouldn't be able to see out the windscreen, hopefully the useless box of metal's wipers still had some life in them or the mission was utterly fucked.
Well, it might be regardless - there had been no sign of the man who's face you had been studying for the past week.
"Ya starin'. Do yer want one, kid?" The first words Mr Logan had spoken since leaving the school. Almost forgetting that the mutant next to you was capable of speech, you jumped out of your skin, only bringing a humiliating chuckle out of your mission partner's mouth. "Ain't gon' bite," he shuffled forwards, chest brushing the steering wheel, and grabbed a cigarette from his jeans pocket before tossing it your way.
You had never smoked before, had no idea what to do with the cylinder gripped between your sweaty fingers. In fact, you were a breath away from shaking your head, only Mr Logan had been quicker.
Determined to not humiliate yourself anymore, you took it between your teeth, the paper bending slightly under the grip.
"Not quite," Logan laughs, his large hands etched with bulging, blue veins, reached over to readjust the cigarette. "Never done this before, bub?"
You shook your head. The man's fingers, now just a breath away from touching your lips, were a hot blaze of radiating heat. All the focus in those old, icy eyes was on you; you kept yours on his thick lower lip, holding up his own tobacco in all its cracked beauty.
"Loosen," Mr Logan instructed, pressing the warmth of his thumb onto the middle of your mouth. "Good an' hold it in the corner, see? Not with yer fucking teeth." He emphasised the instruction with a tap to the corner of your lips, chuckling to himself, deep in his throat. A feeling of envy and attraction washed over you.
You adjusted to the feeling of the foreign object in your mouth, focusing on keeping your lips loose. It was slightly uncomfortable, you didn't feel like a movie star, or a beautiful outlaw at all, just a dumb kid embarrassing himself.
Mr Logan's thumb and first finger gripped your chin, the effortless strength sending electric shocks down your nerves. And then the click click click of a lighter refusing to give until it finally caught, releasing heat into the car that was already steaming up.
You angled yourself away from the passenger window, protecting the miniature flame from the droplets of rain, and took the cigarette between your fingers, like the older kids you try to keep a distance from do.
"Thank you, sir." You flushed with the weight of his attention, readjusting slightly to grind your thighs together subtly, just for a moment of temporary relief. He was your teacher for god's sake and it was entirely inappropriate to be this turned on.
"Logan. Equals for today, eh?"
Determined, you inhaled but it hit the back of your throat with a burning rage and without an ounce of control you were full-blown hacking the stale taste back up.
You figured kids were being over-dramatic about nicotine having a hit but here you were, coughing your guts out if front of a guy, your teacher and mission partner no less, who hadn't once coughed during the fifty drags he'd taken.
The corners of your eyes were watering and it hardly seemed worth it because, rather than a gentle buzz, you could feel a full-blown headache coming on.
"Not a fan, kid?" Logan sat amused, a shit-eating smirk on his face like he expected that to happen, like he wanted it to.
It was at this moment you realise you'd been scowling, nose scrunched in a mixture of disgust and disapproval.
"I just thought it would feel better than that."
"You'll get used to it. First time's always the worst."
A blush lit up your body, like it always does when an authority figure makes a not-so-accidental innuendo. Except this was different because you could still feel the wetness in your boxers from Logan hovering over you and thinking about it only made it worse.
To make matters worse, Logan's nostrils flared, like a dog with a scent. You knew he had heightened senses but surely not to that extent, right?
Needing to stop all thoughts, you lifted the cigarette to your mouth and took another drag.
That awful, stale taste hit the back of your throat full-force, you held the coughs back for a second but, soon enough, they were spluttering out again.
"Alright, kid. Let's try somethin' else, can't have you dyin' on me."
You watched as Logan took a drag, shallower than the rest of his previous inhales, he held the smoke in his mouth. Returning his attention to you, he cupped your jaw, the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip encouraged your mouth to open ever so slightly. Content, Logan moved closer until his lips hovered above yours, short-circuiting your brain. Then, he was opening his mouth too, releasing smoke and heat into yours, barely grazing your lips with his.
The taste was still awful, your chest was still struggling, but you welcomed the heat into your lungs, buzzed on an entirely different drug.
"How's that?" Logan asked, only moving an inch or two away from your face, his gruff voice doing nothing for your growing need.
"Only works for pot, I think."
"I take it ya don't want another hit then, bub? Real shame." He teased, moving back into his seat.
"Let me do you." The nicotine must have hit your brain hard because, with a sudden confidence, you were unbuckling and moving to straddle Logan's lap. It was a tight fit, the steering wheel digging against your back slightly, but one of Logan's rough hands found your hips, pulling you down firmly into a more comfortable position, so all your weight was resting on his thighs.
You took the cigarette from Logan's grip and, just as he had done before, you brought it to your lips and took a drag, much smaller than your previous attempts. You didn't let it go to your lungs. Instead, you moved forward, heart beating miles a minute, and tipped Logan's jaw so that he was looking up at you. Then your mouth was hovering above his and, with a deep focus, you gently exhaled the smoke in his direction.
When you pulled away, those blue eyes locked with yours, something akin to pride and adoration swam in their depths.
"Good?" You asked, although it came out less cocky and more approval-seeking than you'd hoped. Mr Logan had always been the hardest teacher to please.
Instead of a verbal response, Logan pulled you back down by your t-shirt, and when his hands found the stubble of your jaw, he pressed his mouth into yours with purpose. The kiss was hard, and messy, his teeth practically clanking into yours, but you didn't care. You melted into it.
Logan's hands found your hair, pulling you further into him and you let him take you. He bit against your bottom lip and the way he slipped his tongue into your mouth could have been sinful, but he tasted of coffee and old smoke and salvation. You only gripped him tighter, your nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders.
When he pulled away, your lips chased his, an involuntary whimper leaving your throat. You needed more. You needed him to eat you alive, gluttonous and unrelenting, until the taste of you would never leave his mouth.
"Easy, kid. Didn't want you droppin' this," he motioned to the cigarette still in your hand, you had been holding it away in fear of catching someone's hair but your brain had gone fuzzy the minute Logan's tongue was down your throat. "Can't let a perfectly good smoke go to waste, eh?" Taking it from you, Logan took another drag, you stared at the o-shape of his lips, the sight going straight to your dick.
You were not waiting for him to finish the damn thing.
"You can put it out on me, sir." The nervousness was clear in your voice, but neediness won over, you wanted Logan to have his way with you, right here in the car.
"You s'posed to be askin' there?" Logan hadn't even flinched at the suggestion, but you could see the twinkle in his eye and, more noticeably, the growing boner in his pants.
"Please put it out on me, sir."
"Fuck," Logan mumbled, licking his teeth. "Take your jeans off."
Without missing a beat, you were unbuckling your pants, fingers a frenzied mess. You had to lift yourself above Logan's lap to give yourself enough room to pull them off, and even then it was a struggle, but you managed.
You were sitting on your teacher's lap, in a communal car, parked on a dodgy road, in only your boxers and a t-shirt but you were too needy to overthink it. Someone could knock on the window and you wouldn't move, you wouldn't even care, not with Logan's cock bulging in his pants.
"Fuck," he muttered again, the hard skin of his hands gripping your thighs. Yes, you wanted to beg, fuck me right here, right now. Your hips moved involuntarily, searching for relief on Logan's coarse jeans, like a dumb mutt humping the first leg in sight. He could probably feel your slick through the fabric, your boxers practically soaked.
Logan's hands caressed your thighs, his hold firm, it tickled the sensitive skin, sending shivers through your body. Then, without warning, he spits onto your bare thigh, spreading it across the skin with his thumb's motions.
"Stay still."
That's all the warning you get before the hot coal is pressing into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. The hot flash of pain comes out of nowhere, stealing any trace of oxygen from your windpipe, a choked moan leaving your mouth. In your body's confusion, your legs open wider and the rest of your body flinches away, your nerves simultaneously wanting more and fighting to get away. It's the strangest sensation you've ever felt; all-consuming and gone in a moment when Logan lifts the ember from your skin.
You blink, eyes wide, mind and body reeling, the sensations entirely overwhelming and yet so addictive.
"That do somethin' for you, sweetheart?" Logan teases, watching you with hungry eyes. The cigarette still in hand, still lit, although it's burning less bright than before.
"Please," You're breathing heavy and the voice leaving your throat doesn't feel like yours at all. "Again."
This time Logan pushes the cigarette into your hip, pressing it against your skin more forcefully, letting it linger until it's stubbed out.
Your eyes water and your mouth moves but no sound comes out. You throw your head back, a mix of pleasure and pain fills your body in waves of fizzling heat that can only be described as ecstasy.
If death is the soul leaving the body, then you died and were reborn right in Logan's arms.
It takes you a moment to come back to yourself. Eventually, you can hear the rain assaulting the windows and Logan's deep breathing. There's a dull pain in the background, where the cigarette burned your skin, and the smell of burnt flesh isn't exactly pleasant. But, god, you don't regret it for a second.
"Back with me, kid?" Logan asks and you can only nod in response. "So good for me. Took it like a man, eh?"
You nod repeatedly, the praise making your cunt throb. You're so turned on you can barely think past the lingering burn and the overwhelming need for Logan to mount you.
You reach for his hand that isn't holding you down on his lap and bring it to the burn on your thigh, a silent request.
Logan caresses the skin gently and you can feel every callous of his skin sending small, burning shocks through your body.
Then, his thumb pushes down, hard. It stings, disgusting and beautiful at the same time, and you can't help but grunt at the sensation. He takes it as a challenge, smirking down at you, and only pushes harder and harder until you're moaning of pain or pleasure - it doesn't matter, it's all the same to you.
"Need me to take care of this for ya, bub?" He indicates the question with a flick of his thumb over the front of your soaked boxers, grazing your hardening clit.
You nod, breathless and desperate.
"Take 'em off then, pretty boy," Logan teases, letting go of you and leaning back with his hands behind his head, almost like he was expecting to nap, not get laid.
Nonetheless, you rush to follow the instruction, unsteady hands scrambling to push the thin piece of fabric off.
You thought you'd be more embarrassed; sat bare and exposed while Mr Logan is entirely clothed, but you didn't mind, not if it meant he'd finally touch you.
But he didn't move an inch. Just licked his lips, the smallest twitch, like a hungry predator restraining itself from eating its prey too quickly.
"Go'n then," he instructs with a nod of his head. "Ride my thigh. I know ya desperate for it."
And your body doesn't have to be told twice, even though you can't quite believe that those words came out of his mouth, that any of this is real.
Still, your hips are moving on their own, grinding against the rough denim of his work jeans. Your sensitive clit rubs against the coarse fabric but the burn doesn't compare to the instant relief, the pleasure flooding your brain like a tide.
"Oh fuck," you groan and you can feel the muscles in Logan's thighs tensing in response, it only encourages the erratic movements of your hips, your thighs tremble with need. All the while, Logan just stares, watching you rut against him like a dog, in this moment you're simply a piece of entertainment to help get him off.
You're staining his jeans with your arousal and you hope, when you get back to school, people will notice, maybe somebody will even ask him what happened and then his mind might jump to this moment - to your ragged breathing as you get yourself closer and closer.
Logan must notice as well because he moves his arms from the back of his head and encircles your hips in his large hands, the callouses tickling your sensitive skin, and ceases your movements with his grip alone.
"Messy thing, ain't ya?" Without thinking, you nod, he could tell you the sky isn't blue and you'd agree, anything for him to let you continue rubbing against him. "Lap it up for me."
And your body was moving before your fuzzy brain had even processed the request, it was a squeeze but you managed to sit below the dashboard, kneeling in between Logan's legs. You gazed up at him and you're almost sure he mumbles a "fuck", a small crack in his controlled demeanour that fills you with a sense of satisfaction.
You have to sit up slightly to reach his thighs, where you had left a wet spot on the blue denim, you bring your tongue down, eyes not leaving Logan's. Provoking him gave you an adrenaline rush and you were quickly rewarded with a hand grasping the back of your head, practically dragging you to his crotch.
You were more than happy to oblige; mouthing against his jeans sloppily, you can feel him harden underneath your tongue.
"Can I take yours off, sir?" You ask, out of breath and more than a little dishevelled.
Logan's eyes dilate, the pretty blue darkens in his hungry gaze. Then he's undoing the brown leather belt that sits at his hip and, without taking his eyes off you, pulls the jeans down to his thighs.
Your mouth-waters at the sight of the dark hairs trailing down his stomach, down to his cock covered by a pair of worn boxers. You lean forward, desperate to have him in your mouth.
"Wait."
A single-word command and you're pulling back, looking up and waiting for instruction on instinct.
"Attaboy," Logan praises and you glisten with pride. "Hands behind ya back."
Again, you're quick to follow, even in the awkward small space, eager to earn Logan's nod of approval.
It's only when he leans forward, belt in his hand, looping it into an eight-shape, that you realise what he's doing. You pull your hands into fists, flat to your back, and he slips the makeshift cuffs onto your wrists before pulling them right.
"How's that? Give 'em a pull."
You pull, light at first, then with more of your strength - the belt doesn't budge. You're on your knees, cigarette burns covering your thighs, bound and completely at Logan's mercy.
Pleased with his work, Logan leans back, allowing you to admire as he spreads his thighs. Eager to put your mouth to work, you shuffle forward, uneasy with your hands tied behind you. You wanted to grab, to take and feel every inch of his skin but you couldn't. While you're unimpressed with your circumstances, Logan just laughs, amused by your disappointment.
"C'mon, darlin'," he encourages, threading his hand through your hair and coaxing you forward.
You press kisses into his right thigh and your senses are flooded with his warmth, his scent and the feeling of his skin below yours. You take your time, appreciating every freckle, kisses becoming sloppier until you're nibbling at his inner thigh.
"Ya got no chance, kid. Bruises'll just heal up."
Determined, you take the skin between your teeth and bite down, but, before you can leave a kiss on the same spot, the small blemish had already vanished.
"Told ya, bub." Logan teases, pulling you away. "Ain't gonna bite me anywhere else, are ya?"
"No promises."
In retaliation, he pulls harder and you can't help the small moan that escapes your throat.
"Such a filthy thing," Logan murmurs, pulling again, harder.
You cry out in a blurry mix of pain and pleasure, your hips humping the air out of desperation. The air was thick with heat and arousal, and he hadn't even fucked you yet.
"Let's put that mouth to better use, eh?" Logan purrs, pulling his boxers down just enough to free his cock. You're quick to lean forward, needing the weight of him in your mouth, but Logan stops you with a stern "Wait."
You watch, mouth-watering, as Logan spits onto his own hand and strokes his length agonisingly slow, teasing you, the other hand in your hair, holding you in place. You watch the slight movement of his tendons as twists his hand, resisting the urge to pounce on him and bite down on the veins glittering his skin. But you wanted to be good, to switch your brain off and follow every command.
"Open."
And you did, opening your mouth wide, you'd take anything he gave you. Without missing a beat, Logan slapped his dick gently against your cheek, smearing pre-cum at the corner of your mouth, you had to resist the urge to lick it up.
"Suck," he instructed then, voice hot and sultry in your ear. You'd find it embarrassing that he had to lead you down, if it didn't turn you on to be so helpless.
You started slow, testing the waters as you took the leaking tip into your mouth, you could feel the way Logan melted into the touch. Closing your eyes, you worked up a rhythm, taking more of him into your mouth each time, paying extra attention to the underside of the head just to hear Logan's breath catch.
"Fuck," the man above you moaned, his grip in your hair grew tighter like he was resisting the urge to slam you down and fuck your throat.
You took as much of him as you could, gagging when his cock hit the back of your throat, and Logan moaned out loud, bucking his hips so that you gagged again.
"Well ain't you a good little cocksucker, eh? Take dick better than a cig," Logan laughed, letting you come up and catch your breath for a moment.
"I don't see you complaining," you shot back, meeting his gaze as you took his cock back into your mouth, down to the base. Gaining confidence, your head bobs up and down eagerly, letting Logan's cock hit the back of your throat, his thighs trembling beneath you. The car is filled with the sound of his laboured breathing and your small gags.
"Fuck, 'm gonna cum-" Logan moans, guiding you off his dick with the hand in your hair, you try not to think about how easy he manhandles you, or what he could with his full strength.
Involuntarily, you whine when the weight of him leaves your swollen, spit-covered lips with a pop.
"Ain't what I used to be kid," Logan explains, his thumb tracing your bottom lip, spreading his pre-cum across your lips and chin.
"I want your cum in my mouth, sir, please, please-" Logan cuts your whining off with a kick to the stomach, the leather of his boot making quick, sharp contact with the meat of your skin. You keel backwards, it wasn't a hard kick, you knew he could do worse, but you weren't expecting it.
"You take what I give you, understand?"
You nod, head moving so fast it makes you dizzy. Although you want Logan to kick you again, harder, over and over until you cum from the abuse alone.
He taps his thigh, calling you over like a pet. You climb back into his lap, Logan holds you steady as you fumble your way around in such a confined space with your arms tied behind your back.
As much as you want to stay on your knees, sucking him off until you get to swallow the taste of him, you can't be displeased when his calloused skin takes a hold of you. Logan's thumb caresses the cigarette burns on your skin, your mouth waters at the flicker of pain spreading through your overly sensitive nerves.
"Next time," Logan mumbles into your ear, far too softly for the bruises he's left on you. The promise of more leaves you with goosebumps. "This time I'm gonna fuck you proper. Gonna fill you so damn full, ain't that right?"
Arousal burns through your stomach, you're sure Logan can feel how wet you're getting, your arousal probably leaking onto his hairy thighs.
Then his rough fingers are prodding at your mouth, and you open, wetting them with your tongue. There's something about Logan using your mouth that makes your brain a little hazy. You're malleable, soft in his hands, the warm weight on your tongue somehow grounding and dizzying at the same time.
Too soon, your mouth is left empty again, but you don't complain this time. Logan is practically manhandling you, moving your legs so that you're straddling him.
"Lift yourself up for me, bub. That's it- Atta boy."
You're sure your muscles are going to ache tomorrow, but isn't this all apart of training? Really, you're just strengthening your core - very important X-Men stuff.
Logan's wet fingers circle your cunt, teasing you. Your legs already feel wobbly, but you steady yourself, biting so hard into the skin of your lip that the taste of copper fills your mouth.
In one smooth motion, he's sinking two fingers into you, slowly at first, the muscle giving way inside you.
The windows are steamed to hell and back, the air is thick with the smell of sex and burning and heat, and the sound of Logan's fingers thrusting into your cunt.
"So wet for me darlin'," Logan teases, curling his fingers to draw a heavy moan from your lips. "Made for this, weren't ya? Lettin' an old man have his way with you."
Too soon, he's pulling his fingers out of you, leaving your inner thighs coated with slick and Logan's dried spit from when he burnt your skin. And then he's pumping your t-dick between his fingers, too hard and fast for the sensitive bundle of nerves.
"An' so hard for me too, hm?"
You buck into his hand, desperate for more friction. You practically fell into him, breathing hard into his shoulder, your canines digging into the muscle as he jerked you off with your own pre-cum.
"Fuck, I shouldn't be doin' this," Logan whispered into your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses across the underside of your jaw, the curve of your throat, down to your clavicle. "Tell me to stop."
"No, no- I want you, sir, please-"
Then Logan was gripping your thigh with one hand, spreading your legs open, and slicking himself up with more spit with the other.
"'Course ya do. Fuckin' whore."
In a single movement, Logan slides into you, pushing your down by the waist, easily splitting you open. It knocks the breath out of your lungs, head thrown back as a silent cry leaves your throat. You're suddenly so full, Logan burying himself so deep inside you, the head of his cock nestled right into your sweet spot, that your insides ache from the sudden stretch.
"You're so tight for me, darlin'," Logan hisses, slowly grinding into you as you adjust, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. "Ain't the first man you've been with, am I?"
"No, fuck." You manage between moans, adjusting to the feeling of Logan fucking in and out of you, and the sharp pressure against your g-spot. "'M so full."
"Yeah darlin'? Only my dick can fill you like this. You were made for me, hm?" Logan punctuates the statement with the snap of his hips, the pace increasing as he fucks into you.
Every thrust is rough, Logan's cock dragging against your walls with such force it leaves you dizzy and drooling. You attempt to move your hips in tandem, but Logan's pace is unrelenting, and your thighs are already trembling.
Lewd words falls from Logan's mouth, praising you every time you meet his thrusts, or clench around him. Presumably, the entire street could hear your loud moans and Logan's balls slapping into your cunt.
Sweat pools across your skin, causing the leather belt tying your hands to chafe against your heated skin. There's an ache in your upper arm, tingles spreading across the muscle, but it doesn't compare to the dopamine flooding your brain with every movement of Logan's hips.
With a sudden force, Logan grabbed your hips, sturdy fingers digging right into your hip bone, squeezing the cigarette burn he had left there. It sends a jolt of pain through your entire body, you writhe and squirm beneath him, but he's relentless and much stronger than you. You might be on top, but in everyway that counts, he has you pinned down.
"Does that hurt kid? Tell me it hurts," Logan's breathless, the closest he's gotten to whining this whole time. His thrusts became sloppy, less calculated, like an animal desperate for release, using you for its own pleasure.
You're sobbing now, salty tears falling across your cheeks and small hiccups escaping your throat. Simultaneously, your insides pulsed, the muscles in your thighs locking up, you were agonisingly close. "It hurts, sir. Please, it hurts."
"Good boy. Takin' it so well, huh?" Logan's grip travelled downwards, calloused hands splaying across your ass, dragging you down to meet his thrusts like you were merely a plaything. "Gonna take my cum too, hm? Want it inside of you?"
You could only moan in response, nodding frantically as your back arches in pleasure. The change in angle has you clenching impossibly harder, Logan's hip withdrawing and then driving hard into you as your walls squeeze against his dick.
"Oh!" It hits you all at once; something in your stomach uncoils, your legs give out and you're collapsing into Logan's chest. There's white noise filling your ears, everything fades away as an intense pleasure fills your stomach. Distantly, you can still feel the slap against skin as Logan fucks into you and the buzz of overstimulation sends electricity across your nerves.
Logan moans out your name when he comes, holding you still as hot streaks spill deep inside of you, fucking you both through your orgasms. You're seeing stars, overstimulated and overwhelmed as Logan fucks his cum into you. There's a distant snikt! and a brief pinch of pain and then small drops of something are falling across the meat of your ass. You'd know that metallic sound anywhere, the sound of Logan's claws unsheathing.
"Made me come so hard, fuck," Logan groans, breathing hard into your neck as his thrusts gradually slow until he comes to a stop, still deep inside of you. "So good for me, kid."
Then, ever so gently, Logan lifted you off his cock, smearing hot cum across your inner thigh. It's strange, feeling so empty after being relentlessly stuffed full; your body is exhausted but something in your brain feels on alert, overly aware that something is missing, that something has been taken away from you.
"Shit, did I nick ya bub?" Logan asks, soothing over the place where the metal pinched your skin. "Let me clean ya up, hm?"
There's a light sheen of sweat covering your forehead and Logan reaches up to thread his fingers through your hair, cooling you off.
He doesn't move until you give him the okay, a small nod, and then he unties the belt from behind your back, careful to not jolt you too hard. Immediately, you stretch out your arms, if only to make them feel less tingly.
You watch as Logan strips off his shirt, admiring the view as he struggles to rip the sweaty fabric off of his heated skin.
"Clean me up with that?" You laugh.
"Hey, s'all I got," Logan protests, wiping your oversensitive thighs down. "Nothin' about this car is clean, anyway. I'll drive us back, make sure those cuts are all right."
"Oh yeah, I'll just walk in and ask Dr McCoy to assess the cuts on my ass! Fuck no."
"When did I say anythin' about showing Hank your ass, mister? Hell, you'd kill the man." Logan chuckles, and you're suddenly glad fucking each other hadn't made it awkward. "I'll look 'em over and we can get something good to eat, how's that sound?"
"Sounds good," You say, climbing back into the passenger seat, pants in hand.
The rain hadn't stopped, the window was still broken, but somehow you were flat out in ten minutes. It was the best sleep you'd had in weeks, despite the awkward angle of your neck, maybe because of Logan's hand caressing your thigh the whole drive back.