Work Text:
“Read ‘em and weep!” Louise grinned, laying down her cards on the glass coffee table. She grazed her beer in celebration but righted it before it went crashing to the carpeted floor of Logan’s living room.
“You can’t say that after every hand. It starts to lose its edge,” Logan sighed. He tossed his cards face down in a defeated flop.
“Said the loser.”
“Yeah yeah.” Grumbling, he sat back on his overstuffed loveseat and splayed his arms wide to gesture to the rest of his body. “Go ahead. Pick your poison.”
“Hmmm, you know,” Louise tapped at her chin, “I’ve been needing a nasty sock to add to my collection.”
“And the lady chooses the sock!”
She rolled her eyes at his game show host theatrics as Logan leaned down to peel off one of his few remaining items of clothing.
“You wanted to play strip poker. I wanted to steal a beer from you then hit the road.”
He tossed the sock at her face, but she swatted it down to the pile growing by her feet. It occurred to her that she could put it on to add for extra insurance in case the tides turned, but lady luck favored her tonight.
Besides, Louise reasoned as she took a break to glance at her phone, it was three in the morning. Not like this game could go on much longer. On the rare occasions she swung by Logan’s place after closing the bar, it was only ever for something. Like the time he lost a bet and needed to fork over his fancy knife set that he never used.
This had been the first time he suggested a game.
And, because he’s that jerk Logan, he pulled no punches picking strip poker. He’d call her a coward if she refused, and she didn’t agree for any other reason.
They played by a special set of house rules to make it easier for two people to play and win. Supposedly, the only way to finish the game was if either wound up naked or cried uncle, Logan calling it their own version of Naked or Afraid. The way things were going? Two more rounds and he actually owed her dinner to go with the show.
“Well I didn’t count on you being any good at poker, now did I?” Logan huffed, a sore loser to the end.
“Add it to your list of mistakes,” Louise said, pocketing her phone and offering to shuffle. “Right after needing to get kicked out at closing like a jackass.”
“Please, that’s hardly a mistake. Closing your dirty biker bar goes a little faster when I’m around, doesn’t it?”
“Great Cynthia impression. I’ll be sure to tell her next time I see her,” Louise snorted. “Your friends have to be tired of you ditching them to turn off all the neon at my bar. It’s kind of pathetic.”
Logan took a swig of his beer then asked, “Pathetic how?”
“Oh that you would run around doing my chores for me. You know I have bartenders for that, but noo Logan’s going around clicking off the Coors sign just for a scrap of my attention and no reward.”
He leaned forward to grab the cards from her but paused, elbows on the table, and whispered like he had a secret. “It’s three a.m. and whose home are you in right now?”
A blush threatened to break out, but she grit her teeth against it.
This was his other game.
After the debates had been won and the pool table cleaned up, he played like he wanted her. He must have figured out the flirting threw her off, and now it was an easy way for him to level the playing field. She called it cheap. He called it the only thing he had.
The cards were distributed for another round.
It started slowly.
A hand here or there, and she would lose. Louise threw him her jacket first, kicked off a shoe, and then the other.
Then it became every round.
“I thiiink I waaannntt…” Logan tapped his chin with the cards after successfully calling her bluff. “The shorts.”
“Try again.”
“That’s one of your strikes.”
A little contingency plan, if either of them refused a piece of clothing they had to take a strike. Three strikes, they owed the other a favor. It was why she started high, thinking he would take a strike instead of ripping off his shirt first thing.
She hadn’t counted on his lack of shame.
“Then,” Logan pointed towards her head, then curled it in a come hither gesture.
Louise tossed off her bandana without thinking about it.
Her hackles were raised, and she tried more seriously now to not let her face betray what was in her hand. That was the only explanation for losing, she had gotten sloppy in her arrogance.
It worked for a while, and Logan sat shivering in his boxers.
She only needed one more winning round.
She repeated that as she lost her socks and an earring.
When her crewneck came off without protest, Louise saw Logan physically deflate at the sight of her undershirt.
“Ah,” he said, disappointment leaking from every pore. “So I wasted my chance to get another strike from you.”
“You did,” she agreed, though she pulled her knees up on the couch so that he couldn’t see her getting colder.
If he wasn’t as dumb as he was, she would think he adjusted the thermostat on purpose.
“Your stupid strikes aren’t going to matter anyway,” she said as he shuffled the cards again. “It’s over for you with this next hand.”
“Whatever you sayyy,” Logan said and let the last word hang in the air with a hint of mischief. He dealt, and they went through the motions.
“I can picture it now, you crying uncle.” She pitched her voice lower in a goofy imitation of him. “No, Louise, you can’t see my penis, that’s for all the sluts I’m hooking up with all the time.”
“Slut-shaming! In my own house?”
“Your house has seen exactly how many women you pick up at my bar then bring through that door. Trust me, the house knows.”
“If you know so much about the house, then maybe you shouldn’t bet against it.” Logan put down his cards. Another winning hand. “I’ll take my prize now. One bra.”
What the fuck.
She HAD good cards. She SHOULD have won.
But his were better.
“You don’t already have enough stolen bras from all your ‘overnight guests,’ huh?” Louise stalled. She knew his game. He wanted her to use another strike, and she wouldn’t give in so easily.
“That might have been true a couple months ago, I’ll admit it, but I’m a changed man. My collection has been donated, and I haven’t seen anyone else since February.”
“Collection,” Louise repeated with a grimace. She shook it off then shrugged. “We all have our dry spells I guess.”
“It’s not a dry spell,” he argued. Leaning forward, he emphasized each word with a tap against the glass of the coffee table. “I’m. CHOOSING. not. to. see. anyone.”
Squinting at him, she asked, “Soul searching?”
And he shrugged in response.
“It’s not really searching if I found what I’m looking for.” His hand stretched out. “Alright enough talk,” he wiggled his fingers, “gimme.”
Not risking her reputation anymore, Louise didn’t hesitate and unclasped her bra through her camisole. She shimmied the straps off her shoulder, wiggling so it came loose, and pulled her bra out from the top.
Fuck, it was cold.
She tossed it unceremoniously to the floor, close to her to ensure that it DID come home with her eventually.
“How did you…” Logan trailed off, momentarily more confused than interested in what his little game had revealed.
“It’s a trick. Now are we going to get this game over with or what?”
But he had already recovered from the bra move.
One look at Logan told her the game was the very last thing on his mind.
His hand lay over a pillow on his lap that he was using for warmth and he was gripping at the fabric like it was the only thing anchoring him to this earth. He stared unabashedly at her tits, mouth opening so that his tongue could dart out and wet his lips.
Snapping her fingers, Louise called his attention upwards.
“Are we playing or should I leave before you pass out?”
That got him back in the game, and he stared hard at the table in front of him.
Cards flipping became the only sound in the room, banter pushed to the side and forgotten at the very real stakes.
She thought she had him. This new “serious and in the game” Logan still had all the same tells. His nostrils flared when he pulled a card he didn’t like. Yeah her hand wasn’t the best, but if his cards also sucked then this was all over. Luck hadn’t abandoned her after all.
She truly believed that right up to the point where Logan revealed a full house.
They both stared down at the cards and then at each other.
“Can you do the same trick with your panties?”
For a second, she considered how exactly she would manage the impossible without using a strike, but no. She wouldn’t cut off her underwear just to avoid stripping.
Fumbling with her words, Louise racked her brain for some conversation or some instance that could keep outside the range of a third strike. Logan cut through the bullshit with one simple question.
“Why did you agree to play with me?”
“Because I never lose,” Louise scoffed.
“That’s not how games work.” Logan leaned forward, hands on his knees and inquisitive. “Unless you were planning on cheating?”
“How would I even cheat?”
“I don’t know, you’re the one who thinks it’s impossible for you to lose for some reason.”
“Because it is!”
“Big talk coming from a woman that owes me some panties.”
Louise winced and swatted at the air like she could physically smack his words away. “No, no no no, you are not allowed to say that.”
“Panties? That’s what they are.”
“You know it sounds gross coming out of your mouth, and you’re doing it on purpose.”
“So you don’t like… when I say panties?” He said each word deliberately slow and testing her reaction, delighting in the new ways he could fuck with her.
“Banned.” She closed her eyes and shuddered. “Besides, I’m still wearing my shorts, and I’m not skipping around.”
Crossing his arms, he pointed at her with his chin. “The rules are I get to call what I want.”
“I can’t phase through my clothes, this isn’t a two for one deal, and I’m not cutting off my underwear. You’re getting shorts.”
“That’s a strike.”
She didn’t bother arguing with him, slamming her cards on the table. She would do it quickly, just slide the shorts down, sit right back on the couch. Easy.
Oh shit, what was she even wearing today?
Didn’t matter, she shook her head to banish the thought. She wasn’t afraid.
Standing, Louise undid the buttons of her shorts without fanfare, pushing the denim over her ass and down her legs, and kicked them off. She expected Logan’s eyes on her the whole time, and they were for the most part. She glanced at him momentarily, and the only way to describe his look was hungry.
A flicker of something else came over him, and he shifted his gaze just to the side of her. His curious expression was gone just as quick as it came, and his wolf-like aura returned to drink up her exposed thighs.
What lasted maybe a few seconds might as well have been an eternity before she plopped back on the couch, now able to feel the soft fabric against more of her skin.
She said nothing, her turn to shuffle.
It should be over any minute.
There was no way he'd beat her when she had a straight flush. But like every other round where she had the better cards, he folded.
“How do you KNOW when to fold?” Louise growled, throwing her cards against the table again. “What the fuck is my tell?”
“Well it wouldn’t be any fun if I told you now would it? One more?”
And the cards were dealt again.
Stone-faced, she stared at her hand, which was harder to do when Logan’s body was seated right behind them. She thought the discomfort came from being on display, but she had forgotten he was nearly naked too. The spades and clubs blurred together, the numbers no more than a bunch of squiggles, as something deeper in her demanded she check out the toned muscle and the tufts of a blond happy trail just at the edge of her sight.
It wasn’t fair. People with that big of an ego shouldn’t be hot under their clothes too. Although maybe that’s what fueled their arrogance in the first place?
Louise squirmed.
“You could always cry uncle,” Logan said as though reading her mind, twiddling his thumbs in feigned innocence. “Just give up. Or lose the old fashioned way. I’m fine with whatever really.”
“I’m fine with whatever really,” Louise mocked, doing her horrible imitation of him again. “I’m not losing. This hand is mine.”
“You really want to take that chance? You’re sitting there in your skivvies, and-”
“SKIVVIES??”
“I’m banned from saying panties, so what do you want from me?”
“Underwear, Logan. It’s called underwear.”
“Yeahhhh,” he squinted, considering the switch. “No. Skivvies. Look, how about I make you a deal. A little side bet.”
Her face heated as his voice dropped lower, but she nodded anyway. “I’m listening.”
“Your cards are garbage compared to mine. I would bet my life on it. But,” he shrugged, eyes half-lidded. “I’ll give you a trade. One lap dance and you can have all your clothes back.”
“Go fuck yourself,” Louise balked.
“I’ll give you your shirt if you feel yourself up.”
“You’re dreaming, pal.”
“Alright alright.” Logan let the silence stretch out then waved his hands in some semblance of nonchalance. “How about… you sit in my lap, just sit, and I’ll give you my shirt. Think about it. It would basically be like a dress for you anyway. Almost like you have all your clothes back for half the price.”
She had known him long enough to know the first offers weren’t legitimate, just ways to wear her down and remind her of how much worse her fate could be. But he was sooo kind and generous. All he wanted, the poor tired soul, was to be closer to her.
Jackass.
“But I could lose it after one round,” Louise argued.
“Then you could forfeit the game and be tonight’s loser.” Logan shrugged. “We could revisit the dancing idea?”
“No. No, there’s no dancing happening.” She drummed her fingers against the table. “Just sit?”
“Just sit. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
“And I get your shirt?”
“You can even keep it if you want,” he said, nodding solemnly.
Just like every other move she made tonight, Louise struck without thinking. She wasn’t some high schooler embarrassed by a naked man or the thoughts of sex, and she reminded herself of that as she marched over to Logan, flung his little protective pillow to the side, and climbed on his lap.
Anchoring herself with her hands to his shoulders, she set her knees on either side of his lap and realized too late she should have done this the opposite way around so that they weren’t staring at each other with equally shocked expressions. Louise cleared her throat.
“Alright, creep, there. I- oh.” She blinked. “You’re…”
“Have been for a while,” he strained, “and it’d be weirder if I wasn’t.”
“So. There’s that.” Louise squirmed, trying to find an angle where she wasn’t up against… it.
“Hm, yeah, uhh counterproductive move there,” Logan choked on his own gasp as she grazed him again.
She froze instantly. “You wanted me here, you don’t get to be awkward about it.”
“Who’s awkward? I’m helping you out. In fact,” he paused, grabbed hold of her thighs as he moved a leg out, kicking something up. He let go right after, leaned, and swiped his own shirt from the ground. “Your winnings.”
She reached for the thermal, but he jerked it back.
“Allow me,” he said, opening it up and throwing it over her head.
Louise yelled at him through the shirt, but he pretended not to hear and twisted the garment so that she couldn’t find the arm holes. Her head finally poked through the top, hair a mess, and she glared down at his stupid laughing face.
“This is how you get your kicks, you sick freak?”
“Not usually, but you’re special.”
The inflection he put on the words stopped her.
When they argued, when they played their games, it was always harder to notice how close they had gotten. It just happened. Keep your enemies close, a voice in the back of her mind reminded her.
She just wasn’t sure if this was what they had in mind, Logan’s boner throbbing in between her thighs.
Louise swallowed hard, trying to keep her breathing even. If she so much as twitched, she would be grinding her pussy into him. The mirth had melted off his face, staring at her now like he was having the same realization.
There wasn’t a time limit, they hadn’t set one out loud. Maybe the assumption was that it would be over quickly.
But she couldn’t just move off of him. Or else she would rub against his length. Or else…
Or else she might actually feel good.
She blinked, swallowed again, and focused on Logan.
He was tense, keeping his hands at his side like he said he would. The muscles in his jaw were tight, and he looked like a restrained bobcat, desperate to pounce but unable.
Popping the bubble of blissful ignorance for them both, Louise loosened her grip and rocked against his dick.
With a freed moan, Logan snapped his hands to her ass, gripping handfuls tight and giving himself permission to push her harder against him. He thrust upward, and she gasped at how it lit up her belly.
Unable to swim in the arousal without drowning, Louise took her power back by grabbing Logan’s face and smashing his lips to hers.
Fuck, had she ever been this horny before?
It’s just another kind of fight, she thought to herself. The hurried smack of their lips and labored sounds of their gasps echoed through the room, and their mouths wrestled against each other, each trying to claim the upper hand.
Marking it down as just another thing they had in common, their passion was violent. He forced his tongue in, she bit his lip, and every scratch and grind sent another shock of heat through them.
As frenzied as they moved, they eventually needed to break for air but one look at Logan said he was ready to drown in her. She wondered if she mirrored him.
“Why did you agree to play, Louise?” Logan asked, breathless, but continuing his barrage. “Why did you kiss me? Why are you blushing?”
He quizzed her like he knew there was a right answer that he wanted her to get, but she was too caught up to pick up on what it could be.
What was she doing??
“Because it’s a hundred degrees in here!” Louise yelled despite their close proximity. She untangled herself from him and shoved off the loveseat and consequently his lap. She glared, throwing up her hands. “I mean, god, your electric bill must be insane. I need some water.”
Without looking back, she marched to the kitchen.
“That would be a lot more believable if I couldn’t see how hard your nipples are by the way,” Logan called after her.
Stomping to the cabinets for a glass, Louise grumbled all the different thoughts that couldn’t quite form full sentences. She located her favorite cup from her previous visits and swung around to the fridge for water.
She jumped at her own reflection in the stainless steel refrigerator, having already forgotten that she was wearing someone else’s clothes now. Because of the game. Because of strip poker, which she was playing.
Why did she agree to this? It wasn’t like she wanted to see him naked. She just wanted him to look at the point of no return then back down, grovel at her feet.
Louise filled her glass using the dispenser on the door, a luxury she wondered offhandedly if Logan had ever had to live without. When it reached a little less than half the glass, she chugged the water and went right back to refilling it for another drink.
Maybe her one beer had been too much. Was her tolerance weaker?
That must be it.
Shaking her head, she realized she had stalled long enough. If she stayed in the kitchen for another minute, he would have some comment ready about her being afraid. He knew it irked her, which was exactly why he kept pressing that button.
Gulping the last of her water, she left the glass laying on the kitchen counter and moved back to the living room.
Logan, with his back to her, shuffled the cards, in the middle of some spiel she wasn’t listening to. She blinked, something off about the scene. It took her a second, but she realized it wasn’t his hands exactly but some movement a little ways off.
She crouched, seeing what he could see from his spot on the loveseat.
A mirror.
Right behind her spot on the couch.
Perfect aligned to see-
“You cheating son of a BITCH.”