The Newest Hot Fanfic (Poolverine)

Chapter 13: ''Why I Shouldn't Be Left Alone With Wolverine''

IT HAD BEEN WEEKS since the last time Wolverine had me pinned to a wall, and I'd like to say I'd moved on from it. Y'know, gone back to being my annoyingly loud, sarcastic self. But no. The memory stuck to me like duct tape—sticky, uncomfortable, and just hard to tear off.

Now, here we were again, forced into yet another mission together. This time, a stealth mission. A stealth mission. With me. That's like pairing up a bull in a china shop with an actual china shop and asking them to get along. Spoiler alert: it wasn't going to end well.

"Just keep quiet," Wolverine had grumbled when we first got the briefing. Simple enough for him to say. The man didn't need words—he communicated with glares, grunts, and well-timed claw-snickts. Meanwhile, I was blessed with the gift of gab and a killer sense of humor.

So here we were, sneaking through yet another grimy, abandoned facility—this one looking like it hadn't seen any TLC since the '90s. Cobwebs, flickering lights, the faint smell of something burning in the distance. Perfect setup for a horror movie or, you know, a bad day for us.

"Are we sure this isn't the set of a horror movie?" I whispered, loud enough for it to not be considered a whisper. "Because I gotta tell you, Logan, if you hear creepy whispers in the walls, it's usually not good. Just ask anyone who's ever been in a horror movie. You'd be the guy who thinks he can take on the ghost with nothing but a frown and bad attitude, and then—boom!—you're the first one dead. Meanwhile, I'm the comedic relief, which means I'm safe till at least the third act."

Logan shot me a look over his shoulder, one that could've frozen lava. "Shut up," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Right. This was a stealth mission. Keep quiet. Got it. Not that I actually intended to follow that instruction, because seriously, have you met me?

We moved deeper into the facility, the tension coiling tighter the further we went. The bad guys were close. I could feel it. Or maybe it was the overwhelming sense of impending doom from being forced into silence for longer than five minutes.

"I mean, I get it," I started up again, trying to match his pace but mostly just trying to fill the awkward void. "You're all about the whole 'strong, silent type' thing. But let's be honest—stealth isn't exactly your forte, either. You're like, what, 400 pounds of adamantium? You clink when you walk, dude."

Logan stopped dead in his tracks. Without a word, he spun around, faster than I could process, and slammed me into the nearest wall.

Okay, so this was becoming a bit of a pattern.

But this time, it was different. This time, instead of grabbing me by the collar and shaking me like a misbehaving puppy, Logan's hand was suddenly on my mouth. His fingers pressed hard against my lips, silencing me with nothing but a firm grip. His other hand shot up to pin both of my wrists above my head, so fast I didn't even have time to react.

I froze. My body instantly obeying whatever primal instinct told me that now was not the time to make a joke.

Logan leaned in close—closer than usual. His breath was hot against my ear, and I could feel the rise and fall of his chest, steady and controlled, while mine... mine was anything but.

For some inexplicable reason, my pulse kicked up several notches. This was... a lot. A hell of a lot. I should've been making some crack about his hand being sooo soft or about how he probably does yoga to get that kind of flexibility. But instead, I stood there, pinned, helpless, feeling his strength holding me in place, and... okay, was I drooling?

The realization hit me like a truck. Yup, I was definitely drooling. There was actual saliva collecting behind my lips because my mouth was taped shut by Logan's calloused hand, and my brain was short-circuiting from the sudden proximity.

What the hell was happening to me?

Logan's eyes flashed dangerously, his nose wrinkling in that "you're about to get your ass handed to you" way, but all I could focus on was the fact that his hand was still on my mouth, and my arms were stretched above my head, and... why was this weirdly hot?

"Would you ever shut up?" he hissed, voice low and venomous. His grip tightened, but not enough to hurt—just enough to remind me that he could, if he wanted to. And maybe, just maybe I wanted him to.

My head was swimming. My body was going haywire, like a machine with too many gears spinning at once. I had to get a grip, fast. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to shake off the heat that was rapidly rising to my face. This was ridiculous. This was Logan, for crying out loud! The grumpy old man who sliced through bad guys like butter. The guy who grunted more than he talked. And here I was, pinned to a wall, trying not to focus on the fact that his hand was pressed against my mouth, and I couldn't move my arms, and—

Oh, God, I was in so much trouble.

"Shut up," he growled again, his voice rasping against my skin, "or I'll make you regret it."

My mind was an absolute trainwreck. Normally, a threat like that would've sent me into a sarcastic tirade of bad comebacks, but now? My tongue was completely useless. I was breathless, my heart hammering against my ribs as I stared up at him, utterly silent for what felt like the first time in my life.

Logan's eyes narrowed. He must've noticed the change in me, the way my face was heating up, or the way my pulse raced under his grip. His lips curled into something dangerously close to a smirk before he shoved me back one last time and released me.

I slid down the wall, my legs refusing to cooperate, and landed in a heap on the floor, gasping for air. The cool, damp surface of the wall pressed against my back, but it did nothing to cool the heat that had overtaken my entire body. I reached up with shaky hands and yanked off my mask, desperate to get some air, to clear my head.

It didn't help.

My face was on fire. I buried my head in my hands, hoping to hide the fact that I was completely, utterly flustered. I couldn't explain it. Couldn't put it into words. Hell, I didn't even want to.

All I knew was that Wolverine had silenced me again. And this time, it wasn't just because I was scared or confused.

It was because something about the way he'd pinned me there, the way his hand had muffled my mouth, the way he'd held me in place without breaking a sweat... something about it had gotten under my skin in a way I wasn't ready to admit.

And as much as I tried to shove those thoughts back, bury them beneath layers of sarcasm and bad jokes, I couldn't shake the way my body had reacted. Couldn't ignore the fact that, for just a moment, I'd liked it.

I ran a hand through my sweat-drenched hair and sighed, trying to slow my breathing.

What the hell was happening to me?