Why are you looking at me like this, damn you?
“We’ll try starting a fire without matches,” Logan said, turning away so he didn’t have to look into those uncertain eyes.
“Right,” Andrew said. “If cavemen could do it, surely it isn’t that difficult, right?”
Fuck, he really was seeking reassurance from him.
Grimacing, Logan ran a hand over his scruffy face.
“Right,” he said gruffly. “Let’s get on with it.”
***
Creating fire without matches was easier said than done. Even if they managed to get a spark, making fire out of that spark was another matter entirely. Dry firewood was sparse—the island’s micro-climate was too humid. On the rare occasion that they got the fire going, sudden showers could destroy all their efforts. It didn’t help that there were no caves on the island, nothing that could serve as a natural shelter from rain.
As a result, they often were hungry, annoyed, and soaked—not a good combination when they could barely stand each other. They’d had so many shouting matches these days, a mere glance from Andrew could work him up. Logan wasn’t proud of himself, but it was what it was. He knew they were just lashing out, needing an outlet for their ever-growing frustration and fear, but it did nothing to alleviate those emotions.
With every passing day, the tiny hope that rescue was coming became smaller and smaller until it finally shriveled up and died.
No one was coming.
They were likely going to be stuck on this island for the rest of their lives.
The thought was difficult to accept, but eventually, Logan did accept it.
He had no idea what was going on in Andrew’s head—if he accepted it, too—but the guy had started seeking him out more often, for some stupid confrontation about everything and nothing. It didn’t seem to matter what they were fighting about; Andrew still stuck close to him. And Logan… He didn’t tell him to get lost. Couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Rationally, Logan understood what was going on. Humans were social creatures. They couldn’t survive on their own, without interacting with other humans. Even the most introverted people needed company once in a while, especially when they were stuck on a tiny island with nothing to do to pass the time.
It was just a base need for company. That was all it was. It didn’t mean Logan suddenly liked that bigoted dick, no matter how pleadingly he looked at him lately. If anything, those looks just annoyed him. Tell me we’ll be rescued. Tell me we’ll be okay. Tell me we won’t die here. Look at me, tell me, look at me.
It pissed Logan off. He’d never liked neediness, never wanted anyone to need him.
And yet here he was, tolerating those looks and those petty squabbles over nothing—because he needed them, too. Months with nothing but his own thoughts, without any purpose, were starting to drive him crazy. That was the only explanation for why Andrew’s needy behavior didn’t irritate him as much as it should have.
It still creeped him out—because part of him was starting to like being needed.
***
The need for social interaction he could tolerate.
The touching that started a few weeks after that was far more unsettling.
It started with small things. Andrew’s shoulder would sometimes bump against his. Andrew’s hand would brush against his as they worked together on building a shelter. Andrew would shove him when he was annoyed, his fingers splaying over Logan’s bare chest.
At first Logan wrote those things off as accidents. But they kept happening, so he started observing the other man. The touches… they didn’t seem to be conscious on Andrew’s part. Andrew was still being his prickly, hostile self, mostly, but his body seemed to gravitate closer to Logan.
It made sense, probably. Just like with the need for social interaction, humans were tactile by nature. From infancy, they craved the touch of another being. They didn’t do well without touching and being touched by others. He and Andrew had been stranded on this small piece of land for nearly three months now. It was probably natural that after so long in such isolation, they would start needing the reassurance of human contract.
Now that Logan was paying attention, he caught himself standing closer to the other guy than was strictly necessary, too. His self-control was still better than Andrew’s, but he wasn’t sure how long it would last, to be honest. The loneliness and the empty years that stretched ahead of them ate at him, too, and as the weeks turned into months, he’d started forgetting why this was a bad idea. If they were never going to return to civilization, what was the harm in taking what little comfort another person’s touch brought?
So when Andrew’s bare arm brushed against his, Logan didn’t push him away. When Andrew slumped against him, sweaty and exhausted after they’d finishing building the shelter, Logan allowed it, looking at the sun disappearing into the ocean. The right side of his body, where Andrew was pressed against him, was tingling. Andrew’s shoulder was warm and solid, and sitting like this was… It wasn’t unpleasant.
But it also put him on edge, his cock hard and fat in his shorts. He ignored it. He’d become good at ignoring it. Spending so much time around a half-naked, ridiculously hot guy would make any gay man horny, especially considering that he hadn’t gotten laid in months. His cock didn’t seem to care what a bad idea it was. Nor did it care that the guy was a bigot. It was just a natural physical response, and Logan had been ignoring it for months now. But with every day, his reservations seemed to fade away, and it was becoming more difficult to suppress his body’s needs.
Fuck, he’d never been so frustrated.
Logan pressed the heel of his hand to his cock through his shorts. At this point, he didn’t give a damn if Andrew saw him doing it. Some bigoted, disgusting nonsense would actually be welcome right now, to help him deal with the inappropriate arousal. Being reminded of what a piece of shit Andrew was would surely help him kill his erection.
But if Andrew noticed, he didn’t say anything. His eyes were half-closed, exhaustion and sleepiness etched into his lovely features.
Lovely.
Logan was kind of disgusted with himself for even thinking that word, but it really fit. Andrew’s features were unbelievably lovely, the orange rays of the evening sun illuminating his sun-kissed face, the tiny freckles on his cheekbones, his long, dark eyelashes, and his plump, slightly parted lips.
Logan wrenched his eyes away. Tried to remember what a homophobic little shit Andrew was. He did remember. His cock didn’t care.
“You think the shelter will keep the rain out?” Andrew said, without opening his eyes.
Logan hummed noncommittally, glancing at the dark clouds to the west. If the wind was any indication, they were going to find out soon enough. They’d become rather good at recognizing the telltale signs of showers.
“Hope it works,” Andrew murmured. “I hate being wet.” His finger traced Logan’s knee absentmindedly.
Logan gritted his teeth. He got to his feet, dumping the guy off his shoulder unceremoniously.
“Dick,” Andrew said, glaring at him sleepily. It wasn’t attractive at all.
Logan turned away. “We need to gather firewood before the rain hits, or we’ll go hungry for days. Go.”
Andrew grumbled something but didn’t really argue. Paradoxically, Logan had found that the guy rarely protested if Logan phrased his suggestions as an order. It was when Logan asked for Andrew’s opinion that they would argue until they were blue in the face.
It made Logan wonder.
Chapter 6
It started raining the next morning, as expected.
They hid in their shelter, the fire crackling merrily in the corner as they ate their meager meal. The sound of the rain beating against the ground, splashing against puddles and the ocean, pervaded the air.
It would almost be cozy if Andrew weren’t so acutely aware of Logan’s body beside his.
The shelter was small. It was just big enough for them
to sit comfortably, and the dining area with the improvised fireplace took a good part of it, leaving very little space for them to sleep. They’d tried to make the shelter bigger, but the structure had become unbalanced, so they’d had to settle for an enclosure that was barely big enough for two grown men. As a result, they had to put their bedding side by side, with next to no space between them.
After extinguishing the fire, Andrew lay down on his side, on the very edge of his blanket, as far from Logan as possible, which wasn’t very far. Above them, the rain was hammering down onto the roof, making the space feel more intimate and closed in, as though they were being held together in a warm, careful hand.
Goddammit. He hoped it wouldn’t rain for days again.
He could feel Logan behind him.
Andrew had always thought it was ridiculous when people said they could sense someone’s presence without looking, but now he knew it wasn’t an exaggeration. He could—could sense it with his own skin. Logan always seemed to run hot, his large body like a fucking furnace. It was annoying. It was uncomfortable. The heat was unbearable as it was. Andrew would never get used to the island’s micro-climate: it was too hot despite raining half of the time, the moisture preserving the heat and making it hard to breathe sometimes.
Since they usually avoided ruining their limited clothes with sweat, they both were wearing just a pair of shorts—and Andrew had never been more aware of it. He was used to Logan walking around half-naked, but this was different.
He was in a tiny space with a gay man, and they both were nearly naked.
Andrew’s stomach clenched. He’d seen the outline of Logan’s hard dick yesterday. Logan seemed perpetually hard lately. Andrew had done his best to pretend that he hadn’t noticed anything, but he had. Of course he fucking had. He had functional eyes, and there was nothing to look at on this island besides Logan.
He was in a very small shelter with a half-naked, horny gay man.
What if… What if Logan was finally going to molest him? Would he do it while Andrew slept?
Andrew swallowed as he imagined Logan pressing his body against his and groping his body in his sleep. Molesting him. Groping Andrew’s cock. Stroking his nipples. Groping his ass. Pushing his hard cock against Andrew’s ass while Andrew was none the wiser. The perv would probably pull Andrew’s shorts down and rub his stiff cock between his cheeks, grunting like an animal and taking his pleasure while Andrew slept peacefully, unaware that he was being violated.
Would he wake up? Or would he keep sleeping? Maybe if Logan was really careful, Andrew wouldn’t even find out about it until the morning when he’d find dried come on his ass. Or maybe he would wake up, but Logan wouldn’t stop, forcing him to be still as he thrust his cock between Andrew’s thighs. Logan was bigger and stronger than he was. Andrew wouldn’t be able to stop him. Logan could do whatever he wanted to him, and Andrew wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Logan might force him to suck his cock, which would be disgusting, but Andrew would have to do it; he’d have no choice.
A small sound snapped him out of his thoughts.
It took Andrew a moment to realize that he was the one who’d made the sound.
“If you’re going to jerk off, go do it outside,” Logan said.
Andrew flushed. What—
Wait, his hand was palming his cock through his shorts.
Andrew frowned, unsure when it had even happened. He was hard, for no reason. Well, it had been months since the last time he’d gotten off, and it probably made sense that his libido was returning. He was a healthy man in the prime of his life. His body had needs, and it didn’t care that this was the unsexiest situation he’d ever been in and that mentally he wasn’t exactly in the mood.
“I’m not going outside when it’s pouring,” he said in his most confident, contrary tone. Offense was the best defense, after all. “I’ll jerk off wherever I damn please.”
Behind him, Logan breathed out through his gritted teeth—at least it sounded like it. Andrew could practically see it: the way Logan’s firm jaw clenched, his dark eyes glowering at the back of Andrew’s head.
“Don’t you have any shame?”
Andrew’s face was warm. He hadn’t exactly intended to jerk off in Logan’s presence, but it wasn’t like he could backtrack now without making it look like he was doing as Logan said.
“It’s a natural physical need,” Andrew said in his most nonchalant voice as he palmed his cock. “Close your eyes and stop eavesdropping, you perv.”
Logan laughed harshly. “It’s not eavesdropping when it’s happening right here.”
“Does it really bother you? That’s rich coming from a guy who didn’t mind another guy groping him on a plane.”
Logan had nothing to say to that, and Andrew smiled, pleased that he’d had the last word. He pulled his shorts down and nearly gasped as his hand finally closed around his erection. Fuck, it felt good. He’d forgotten that he could feel good at all.
Biting his bottom lip to keep himself from making any sounds, Andrew started stroking his cock, acutely aware of the other man’s body behind him. The rain drummed outside, and the primitive sound somehow just made him hornier. To his surprise, he didn’t feel embarrassed at all. Maybe he’d just gotten used to Logan always being around lately. Maybe he was just out of fucks to give. Or maybe he wanted to annoy the hell out of Logan. It didn’t matter. It felt good.
He turned onto his back and started stroking himself faster, his pre-come making it easier, the slick sound of a hand moving on a cock unmistakable in the silence. He kept his eyes shut, but he could feel Logan to his right, could hear his harsh breathing.
“I could fucking strangle you right now,” Logan bit off.
A thrill shot through his body. Andrew moaned, quickening his strokes. “Keep your sick fantasies to yourself,” he said breathlessly.
“You’re such a little shit,” Logan said, sounding pissed. There was some rustling, and then there was the sound of flesh moving against flesh.
Andrew’s eyes snapped open.
It was too dark in the shelter to see anything clearly, but he could make out Logan’s hand moving…
Fuck.
Andrew slammed his eyes shut. It didn’t matter. He didn’t actually see anything. He could pretend it wasn’t happening—that Logan wasn’t stroking his cock a few inches away from him.
Gross. The mere idea… of Logan’s large hand fisting that fat cock—it was disgusting. Utterly disgusting. Positively sickening.
Another moan left his lips, his hand working his cock faster.
“Shut up,” Logan said gruffly.
Andrew scowled. Just to be contrary, he became louder, allowing himself to make noises. Screw Logan. Screw him. Ugh, he couldn’t stand him. He hated him so much. What a fucking hypocrite. He’d berated Andrew for being shameless, but now he was getting himself off, probably imagining shutting him up with his cock—stuffing that thick cock into Andrew’s mouth and forcing him to gag on it, choke on his jizz and—
The orgasm caught him off guard. Andrew moaned, stroking himself through it until he became oversensitive.
He panted, his other hand running all over his chest and arm, trying to comfort himself and not crash too hard. He’d always liked being held after sex. It had actually been the favorite part of his sex life with Vivian. She was—had been—amazing at making him feel good afterward. God, he missed her. She would have hugged him and stroked his hair, she would have told him how good he had been for her. She would have—
Hot tears sprang to his eyes.
Christ, he couldn’t believe she was dead. Couldn’t believe she would never put her arms around him and hold him against her soft chest.
A low grunt snapped him to the present. Andrew flushed in discomfort, realizing that Logan must have come, too. There was silence in the shelter now, broken only by the sound of the rain outside.
Was it his imagination or was the rain really letting up?
God, he co
uld only hope.
Chapter 7
The rain didn’t let up.
He and Logan had been stuck inside the shelter for three days now, and it was driving Andrew crazy.
The close quarters would have been okay—they had learned to co-exist in the past months, and Andrew had to admit even Logan’s company was better than being on his own—but ever since that first night…
Putting it bluntly, he was horny as hell.
It seemed that now that his body remembered that it had needs, it decided to keep reminding him of it all the time. It was beyond inconvenient. And a little embarrassing.
Though maybe it should have been more embarrassing than it was. Maybe he should have been more weirded out by the fact that every night he jerked off next to a practically naked, horny gay man.
But truth be told, Andrew had become used to Logan always being around. He didn’t even like the guy, but… having him around was sort of comforting. No, “comforting” was the wrong word. There was nothing comforting about Logan: the guy was a moody, grumpy dick who clearly barely tolerated him. But lately, not having him around put Andrew on edge. Off balance. The loneliness, the lack of purpose and meaning in this life… it ate at him, every day. He sometimes thought he hated Logan, but he hated being alone with his thoughts—being alone, period—even more. When Logan was around, the world came a little more into focus. Andrew knew it wasn’t normal, knew that it was some kind of weird dependency born out of loneliness and desperation, but he could do nothing about it.
He didn’t want to be alone.
They did everything together these days: cooked, scavenged, argued—and just sat in silence. Silence with Logan around didn’t feel as daunting and scary as the silence when Andrew was alone.
Just a Bit Wrecked Page 3