If you haven't read 'Human', you may want to read that first. Laura Kinney isn't a test tube baby in this universe, Logan made her the old-fashioned way with an OC, Maia. This story is going to keep a 'fade to black' on the extra spicy stuff, but if that's up your alley, AO3 has the uncut version. Obvious warning for language, because...Laura's definitely Logan's kid. This picks up somewhere after the first season of the Gifted.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Nice to Meet Ya (Niall Horan)

"Nice to meet ya, what's your name?
Let me treat ya to a drink

'Cause I like the way you talk, I like the things you wear
I want your number tattooed on my arm in ink, I swear
'Cause when the morning comes, I know you won't be there
'Cause every time I turn around, you disappear"

Smoke distorted what little light there was in the bustling bar, making it even more difficult for the humans to muddle around than usual. John Proudstar could make out every individual in the muddled crowd, if he could be bothered to, of course, but he wasn't. He let them all drift into obscurity, focused on the beer in his hand and the pain in his heart.

Lorna was gone.

His best friend was devastated.

Dreamer was dead.

He was useless.

What good was he as a leader if he couldn't keep his... friend... friend with benefits... lover... safe? He couldn't even get drunk right. A bakers dozen of beers between this bar and the last trying to escape his responsibility for one night, and he was barely buzzed.

The door opened again, a tiny burst of fresh air making his starved senses push past his faint resolve. The delicious scent that greeted him took his breath away, and drew his eyes to the door.

A woman had walked in. She was slender, on the petite side for sure, but black leather encased sinfully shaped legs made longer by the ruby red high heels on her feet. Above the low riding leather pants, her toned abdomen flexed as she walked through the bar slowly, and the crowd seemed to part to permit her meticulous stride. Her ample breasts were barely contained in a black tank top John was certain he could see the outline of her nipples through. Brown hair cascaded around her shoulders in loose curls, twisting wildly over and past those peekaboo breasts, breaking his focus.

John forced his eyes to her face, and wasn't surprised at all to see her face was just as lovely as her body. Her lips were out of balance, the lower one full and the upper one thin, but both were pleasantly flush with blood, begging to be bitten to an even deeper hue. Straight eyebrows cut severe lines above her deep mint ringed chocolate eyes, but the kissable lower lip and button nose made her look young...almost innocent. Almost.

She didn't walk like an innocent woman. Her stride was off, something about the way she moved struck onlookers, John included, as the gait of a predator. She had to be deadly, that was for sure, based on the glowing smile she shot the bartender.

"Tequila shot please, and not a cheap one. Don't have time to fool around." Her voice was light, friendly even as she slung a leather jacket over the back of a barstool, but those dark eyes surveyed the crowd of bodies around her with practiced efficiency. Military?

John looked away, suddenly aware of an unbidden bulge making itself known in the front of his pants. Damn, he was sick, wasn't he? Things were falling apart, but did his dick care? No. Not in the least.

"Call me flattered."

Her voice next to his ear startled him, but she was just smiling, an open beer dangling between her fingers "For you", she offered, knocking back the shot she held in her other hand.

John didn't move to take the beer.

Her smile widened, and she tapped the shot glass back down on the bar, leaning closer to him, "The beer totally has ulterior motives, if that is what you are thinking." She leaned even closer, her eyes on his, but her voice rasped in his ear, "I plan on doing real bad things with you, handsome."

It was the heat in her dark eyes that spurred him into action. He took the beer from her fingers, and drank it, staring at her sly face as he guzzled it down. She stared right back.

The last drop had just left the bottle when another man approached, putting a hand on her shoulder, "Hey there, pretty, you'd look good on the back of my bike."

The woman didn't look away from John, "Fuck off."

The man, blonde and built, groaned like a child, "Damnit, Babe, I am so much better than this red shit head!"

She clenched her teeth so hard John could have sworn he actually heard them grind together, which was, of course, impossible, "Not interested. Now get your hand off, and do not call me 'Babe'. Don't even know you."

The asshole didn't listen. No, he was drunk, really drunk, and instead he decided to try to touch her perfect ass.

"3...2...1..." She whispered, still staring at John. The other man's hand didn't move.

Then there was suddenly a flurry of movement that John was a little too inebriated to follow. The last beer must have done the trick. Because it seemed like she had the man on the ground in three seconds flat, much too fast for someone her size.

She stood up, one red heel perched on the man's chest, again looking only at John, her eyes even hotter than before. "Think it's time we find somewhere else to be. This place was only interesting because you were here. Don't even dance. Not to shit like this at least."

"Me?" John asked, speaking before the thought had even clearly formed in his head.

The other man bolted up and away the moment she stepped off of him to get closer to John. She put a hand on his chest, "Of course. You're fucking beautiful."

"Beautiful?" John echoed, rubbing his face with his hands. That was a mistake. The movement cleared his head enough for him to focus on her scent. There could no longer be any denying the arousal in the front of his pants, or that she smelled even better than she had when she'd walked into the bar. Tequila and citrusy sunshine, just a hint of sweetened vanilla to add a calm hypnotizing quality to her.

He couldn't do this. Shouldn't do this.

He couldn't help himself.

He was too tired, too tired of fighting, to truly entertain fighting her, denying what was so obvious when she moved her hand to his cheek. She wanted him, and the throbbing of his dick was all the reason he needed to stand up from the barstool and lean back down to capture those lips with his own.

She seemed smaller as she fit herself against him, every inch of her perfect against his body. She pulled back from his kiss, staring up at him with those damnable molten eyes, and hissed urgently at him, "You have a place nearby?"

He nodded, afraid to speak, afraid the alcohol still in his system would make him look like a horny teenager getting over drama by getting laid. He was obviously past that. Obviously.

She slid her hand into his, and led him to the exit, the crowd again parting mindlessly for her. Under the neon lights of the street outside she smiled up at him again, but there was a hesitancy on her face, "So, moment of truth...don't actually usually do things like this." She sucked in a lungful of the evening air, "Been a little cooped up lately." Her eyes suddenly stilled on his, "Do we exchange names now?"

In spite of himself, he smiled at her, "I don't either. I'm John though."

She smiled at him, and for the first time he thought it was genuine, "Well, John, I'm Laura."

"Laura," He echoed. Of course, her name would be close to Lorna's. Another thing to remind him that he should not be doing this. He should not be taking her to the motel room he'd rented for the night.

He should not have been letting her unbutton his shirt as he fumbled with the damned room key. She ripped his shirt off his shoulders as he pushed the door open, and he didn't care if they left it in the hall.

"Need you in me." Laura growled in his ear, pulling her shirt off before he had a chance to rip it off. She was bare beneath it, a glorious expanse of tanned skin ready for him to feast upon.

They stilled for a moment, both staring at one another, and he was the first to move. John slid one hand down her body to cup a perfect breast, knowing her eyes never left his face. He felt the weight of her in his palm, and stroked his thumb over her peaked nipple. Laura trembled at the touch, and he pressed against her, putting his lips back on hers as they staggered backwards towards the bed.

Laura let him lead, bending her knees and letting him settle between her thighs, his hands stroking her nipples to even harder peaks. She could taste the beer on his lips, could identify the brands he'd imbibed before she'd discovered him, could feel how hard he was as he pressed his clothed lower half against hers. She ran her hand through his hair, down his neck and over his shoulders. His muscles seemed to react to her touch, and the strength in him made her burn even hotter. "Fuck." She groaned when he brought his mouth down to suck on one of her nipples.

He ran his hand over her lightly muscled stomach, glancing down and pulling his lips off her to exclaim, "Damn, you're gorgeous!"

Laura smiled. She'd heard the words before, from all sorts, but his exclamation seemed earnestly genuine. No one else had sounded like that as they called her gorgeous. Reverent. She leaned forward, pulling at his neck as she brought him up to kiss again.

Laura pushed her hips forward as he slid her leather pants off, while she frantically pulled at his belt buckle. He wouldn't notice until later that she bent the metal in her rush to touch him. She tried like hell to get the fly of his jeans open, but she'd learned a long time ago that men might think they liked a woman who could tear denim as easily as breathing…until they had to do the walk of shame with pants that didn't cover their manhood.

John captured her free hand, pressing the inside of her wrist against his face, nuzzling and kissing from elbow to fingertips. While she studied him, he took in her scent. He had never spent much time kissing a woman's arm, but the scent of her was strong there and the primal part of his brain he tried to bury every minute of every day just wanted to revel in the sweet vanilla smell of her. He had actually almost forgotten she held him in her hand until she gave a gentle yet firm squeeze

A/N: They have sex, he gets mixed signals about her possibly being a virgin, which he ignores, but it will be important later!

Finally, John collapsed against her, reaching the ends of perhaps the best fuck of his life. "Holy shit."

Laura laughed shortly underneath him, reveling in the weight of him now on top of her and within her. They couldn't stay this way long, but Laura was loathe to give up how good she felt. She had not intended for the night to go down like this, she had simply been making a run for supplies, but his scent in the bar had completely distracted her. The single-minded intensity that had completely overrun her human mind was actually kind of scary.

As if he could sense her mind wandering, John cupped her cheeks in his hands, forcing her to look at his face, "Don't tense up on me, Laura."

"Not sure I'll ever be tense again." She quipped, but whimpered in abject disappointment a moment later when he slid out of her. Just like that, she was empty again. She huffed in frustration, dragging herself out from underneath him. How could such amazing sex come to an end so soon? Because it had to. She had actual business to attend to before her damned parents started to get worried and came looking for her.

John grabbed her hand before she could step away from the bed, and she looked down at him. He stared up at her, but didn't say anything. Dread seeped into the emptiness in the pit of her stomach. What was he doing? He pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of her forearm, but still said nothing.

"I need to piss." Laura whispered, pulling her hand from his loose grip and walking to the bathroom as she scooped up her scattered clothes. Safe in the tiny room, she took stock of herself. The animal in the back of her head was sated, but insisting that she take their combined fluids from between her thighs and smear it all over her. That was weird, even for her. Usually it was a passing thought, but it took concerted effort to take a clean cloth, wipe herself, and leave it in the tub. She pulled her pants back on, cursing herself for setting herself up for a miserable twelve hours in the truck.

Supply run. Yeah right. She may have secured a truck bed full of machinery they needed, but there had been a reason she'd left before her parents had gotten up to see her off. She'd needed this, needed a hard fuck, and had subconsciously dressed in her favorite 'fuck me' outfit. It had a vicious downside. The leather slid menacingly against her and teased her with every step. Walking past John was tough. He had flipped himself onto his back and watched her. Could he tell what the combination of her tight pants and his gaze were doing to her? Possibly. Maybe? Even in the dim light she could tell his pupils had blown wide again. She knew for sure in that moment that, if she asked, he'd take her again. "I have to leave." She said, voice barely above a whisper.

He stayed quiet, eyes flitting nervously across her body like he was making sure she was okay. Could he not tell she was mutant? It was laced in his scent that he was one, but she knew she'd kept enough control that she wouldn't have hurt him even if he'd been human. He on the other hand…if she were human, she would absolutely not be able to stand, and medical attention would have likely been more necessary than a clean cloth. Which was a-okay with her personally, but a bit concerning ethically.

Laura then did the stupidest thing she'd ever done in her whole life. She knelt next to him on the mattress and kissed him deeply. And then she left, stopping just long enough to scratch her phone number down on the motel stationary by the phone while he watched from the bed.

Let me know what you think!

-Jenn