Just a Bit Wrecked

by Hazard, Alessandra

  Maybe that was why jerking off with Logan around didn’t feel anywhere near as weird as it should have been—would have been in the real world. In this strange, surreal world where only the two of them existed, it was just another thing they did together.

  But while he might not have been all that weirded out about the whole thing, it didn’t mean he wasn’t aware that Logan might not be as blasé about it as he was.

  Logan wasn’t straight. Unlike Andrew, he loved cock. He loved sticking his cock into other men. So really, getting off beside Logan was… probably not ideal. A little reckless. As provocative as a hot, naked woman getting herself off next to Andrew every night would have been.

  Andrew wasn’t blind. He could sense the tension in Logan, the ever-growing frustration, could see the way the other man’s cock would get hard several times a day. Um, he wasn’t staring at the guy’s crotch all the time or anything; it was just right there. Anyone would look. Anyone would notice, considering how fucking big that thing was.

  Coupled with the fact that the guy couldn’t stand him, it seemed it was only a matter of time before Logan finally snapped. So Andrew should probably stop doing this next to him.

  But fuck, he couldn’t. He liked—needed—to feel good. And this was pretty much the only way he could feel good on this godforsaken island where nothing ever happened. The mind-numbing dullness of this existence was driving him crazy—he felt like he was slowly losing his mind—and he wasn’t about to deprive himself of this small comfort. Even his own touch was better than nothing.

  So he ignored Logan and touched himself.

  If Logan got any ideas, Andrew would simply tell him to keep his paws off him.

  ***

  It happened on the fourth day of continuous rain.

  Andrew was curled up on his side, his back to Logan, his hand working leisurely on his cock. His shorts were kicked off to his feet, because he hated how restricted he felt in them. It was dark in the shelter, so it didn’t matter anyway. Logan couldn’t see him.

  He stroked his cock slowly to the drum of the rain outside. Cap-cap, cap-cap, cap-cap.

  He wondered dazedly if this was what the primitive humans used to do all the time: with no Internet and no entertainment to pass the time, they had probably just touched their cocks all day long. Maybe they had public orgies all the time, going around naked, breasts and cocks on display. Naked, pretty women sucking thick, hard cocks… red cockheads glistening with pre-come… Mmm… Though there were probably homos back then, too. The mental image of cavemen sucking each other’s cocks was… obviously nowhere near as appealing as perky breasts.

  “Do you think there were gay Neanderthals?”

  Fuck. His brain-to-mouth filter seemed non-existent lately.

  “Are you serious?” Logan’s voice was a little strangled, amusement mixed with annoyance. “What kind of question is that?”

  “Just had a thought,” Andrew said, still stroking his cock lazily.

  “Your brain is a very weird place.”

  Andrew hummed noncommittally.

  “Why are you thinking about gay cavemen while you’re jacking off?” Logan said.

  “How do you know I’m jacking off?”

  “I have ears.”

  Andrew let go of his cock and brought his hand up his body, stroking his trembling stomach, and then kneading his pecs. His skin prickled, oversensitive after not being touched for so long. He moaned.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Logan said.

  Andrew returned his hand to his cock. “No one forces you to listen.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were asking for it.” Oh, Logan sounded pissed.

  Andrew squeezed his cock, his arousal spiking. “I’m not responsible for your sick mind, you perv.”

  Logan laughed. “My sick mind? You’re getting yourself off a few inches away from me and moaning like a porn star.”

  “It’s not like you don’t do it, too,” Andrew said, stroking his cock faster. “Everyone does it. It’s a natural body function. Don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it.”

  “Already forgot that I’m a ‘homo’?” Logan said scathingly.

  Andrew bit his bottom lip. “Are you saying you can’t control yourself? That’s pretty pathetic.”

  “I can control myself,” Logan said. “You aren’t that hot. But shutting you up with my cock has never been more tempting.”

  Andrew licked the inside of his mouth, his heart hammering in his chest. He stroked his cock faster, painfully aware of Logan’s large body behind his. “I told you to spare me your sick fantasies.”

  Logan laughed. “At least have the decency to stop jerking off while you’re talking to me.”

  “Why? I’m perfectly capable of multitasking.” In all honesty, he probably should stop talking to Logan, but Logan’s low, growly voice—the danger of him snapping—it only made his pleasure sharper. He couldn’t stop touching his cock, his hand flying faster over it, the slick sound of flesh against flesh filling the small shelter. He moaned—

  Growling, Logan rolled and pressed himself flush against Andrew’s back.

  His very naked back.

  “Get away from me, you—”

  “Drop the act,” Logan snapped, his hand gripping Andrew’s hip. “You wouldn’t be naked if you didn’t want this, you bigoted little cocktease.”

  “I’m not a—”

  “You’re the biggest fucking cocktease I’ve ever met,” Logan growled. “You go around half-naked, you jerk off next to me, you give me those needy doe eyes—”

  “I don’t!”

  “You do. And you touch me all the time,” Logan said and ground his cock between Andrew’s cheeks.

  His very hard cock.

  Andrew had another man’s cock rubbing against his ass.

  God, it was so degrading. He was a man. A normal man. How dare that asshole rub his cock against him as if Andrew were a woman or a cock-hungry faggot? Andrew wanted to stop him. He did. But Logan was so much bigger and stronger than him. Fighting him would be pointless, right?

  “So now you have to lie in the bed you made,” Logan said, his breath hot and moist against Andrew’s ear. “I’m finally doing what you wanted.”

  “I don’t want this, you—you rapist!”

  Logan laughed, the sound low and full of amusement. “Rapist? Why are you still jerking off, then?”

  Andrew flushed, realizing that he was still stroking his cock. “I’m just horny,” he said, defensively. “I was close to coming when you started molesting me. That’s all.”

  “Don’t stop on my account,” Logan said, his tone very dry, as if he wasn’t rutting between Andrew’s cheeks like a disgusting animal. “Go on.”

  Andrew scowled, but fuck, he really was horny. He wanted to get off. Even having a naked man pressed so tightly against his back wasn’t turning him off. He blamed his touch starvation. His skin was tingling at every point they were touching, and it was so hard to think about anything else. It felt so good. He needed to…

  “Fine,” he grumbled, resuming stroking. “But don’t get any funny ideas. If you even think about sticking your cock in my ass—”

  “Not planning to,” Logan said. “I have standards.”

  “I hate you,” Andrew said with feeling, fisting his cock faster. “God, I can’t stand you.”

  Logan snorted. “The feeling is mutual, you bigoted little tease,” he said, his cock pressing harder and harder between Andrew’s cheeks.

  The slippery head caught against his hole for a moment, and Andrew jerked, as if electrocuted, a hiss leaving his lips. “Don’t you dare,” he bit out, squeezing his own cock. “If you even think about sticking your huge, disgusting cock into my ass—”

  “For a straight guy, you sure fixate on my cock’s size a lot.”

  “Fuck you. My point is, if you even think about putting your cock in me, I swear I’ll—I’ll—”

  “You what?” Logan said into his ear,
his voice low and hoarse. “What will you do? Call the police? I can do anything to you, and no one will stop me.”

  “You’re sick,” Andrew moaned out, his hand slippery with pre-come as he jacked his cock faster.

  “If I’m sick, so are you. It turns you on, you hypocrite.” Logan bit his earlobe, making Andrew cry out. “You want me to force you. If I force you, it’s not your fault, right? Is that how you think?”

  “Shut up,” Andrew muttered, his head spinning. He couldn’t think, his whole world narrowed to his aching cock and balls—and to the cock rutting between his cheeks. The obscene sound of flesh grinding against flesh, Logan’s hot breath against his ear, his large, hard body against him—it all did strange things to him, making him unable to form coherent thoughts. It was probably the touch deprivation. After months of not being touched, having so much naked skin against his was maddening. Fuck, he shouldn’t have been allowing this to happen—it was wrong and disgusting and depraved—but he couldn’t fucking think. He was being forced, right? It wasn’t his fault.

  Moaning, he turned onto his belly, his erection trapped between his bedding and his stomach. Logan followed him, teeth sinking into his shoulder as his heavy body pressed him down, his hips thrusting, his cock sliding between Andrew’s cheeks, harder and harder—

  Andrew’s orgasm was ripped out of him, a low groan leaving his mouth as he spilled onto his bedding.

  He went boneless, his head blissfully empty for a while—until he felt the hot sticky liquid between his cheeks before Logan’s heavy body went still on top of him.

  “Ugh,” Andrew said. “Get off me, that’s disgusting!”

  Logan rolled off him and lay on his back, still breathing hard.

  Andrew panted into his thin pillow, dread, panic, and mortification filling his chest as the fog of pleasure faded. Fuck. What had they done?

  “It isn’t happening again,” he said shakily.

  “Whatever,” Logan said, his tone clipped. He sounded pissed. But then again, he always sounded pissed.

  Andrew shifted and grimaced at the sticky mess under him and on him. He didn’t want to lie on the wet spot.

  “Give me your bed,” he said, sitting up and wiping his ass against his bedding. It was ruined anyway.

  “Fuck off.”

  “It’s your fault mine is ruined!”

  Logan groaned. “You’re so damn annoying. Fuck off. I’m not sleeping on your jizz.”

  Andrew glowered at him in the dark. “I’m not sleeping on it, either!”

  Yawning, Logan chuckled. “You’re welcome to try to move me.”

  “Ugh!” Andrew kicked him on the shin. “If you’re as inconsiderate of your fucktoys, no wonder you can’t keep any relationships.”

  “Whatever gave you that idea?” The asshole sounded sleepy and a little curious.

  Andrew scoffed. “Please. You’re almost thirty-four, rich, and not entirely ugly—”

  “Thanks,” Logan said dryly.

  “You wouldn’t still be picking up pretty boys on tropical islands at your age if someone could actually stand you enough to stick around.”

  “Your powers of deduction never cease to amaze me.”

  “Give me your bed.”

  “No.”

  Andrew glared at him, hating that the big oaf couldn’t even see it.

  He touched the wet spot on his “bed” and pulled a face. There was no way he was lying on that. Andrew considered just flipping it over, but he knew the bottom was filthy and there were probably all kinds of bugs. Gross.

  Logan, the asshole, started snoring softly.

  Andrew smiled.

  And then he plopped down on top of him.

  The pained sound Logan made was goddamn music to his ears.

  “The hell are you doing?” Logan growled.

  Andrew settled more comfortably on top of him. “You should have just given me your bed,” he said in his nicest tone. “I have nowhere to sleep, so I’m sleeping on you.”

  “Get off me.” Logan tried to shove him off, but Andrew clung on stubbornly, his fingers digging into Logan’s sides. Logan might have been bigger and stronger, but Andrew had more leverage in this position. And fuck, it was a matter of pride now. If he wasn’t going to get sleep, neither would the asshole.

  They wrestled, grunting, Logan swearing filthily under him. “Get off me, you monkey—”

  Andrew broke into giggles as he held on, which quickly turned into hysterical laughter. It wasn’t all that funny, to be honest, but his emotions were all over the place, and he had no idea what to do with them. He was freaking out of his mind; he had no idea what he was doing or what was happening to his life, he hated this man, couldn’t stand him, but he also needed him with a ferocity that terrified him. He didn’t know what was going on anymore—who he was, what he was, why this was happening—

  “Have you lost your mind?” Logan growled. “Stop that—stop laughing!”

  He didn’t stop. Couldn’t. He laughed, and laughed, until the noises leaving his throat became ugly and broken, his body shuddering and his eyes burning with tears.

  Logan went rigid under him. “For fuck’s sake,” he said tersely. “If you start crying on me, I’ll kick you outside.”

  Andrew tightened his grip on his sides. “I’m not crying,” he said, his voice thicker than he would have liked.

  Logan heaved a long-suffering sigh. He seemed irritated, but he wasn’t attempting to shove him off anymore.

  “Quit crying and sleep,” he said at last.

  Something inside Andrew loosened a little. He closed his eyes and breathed out.

  The rain kept beating against the shelter’s roof, but all Andrew could hear was the steady, strong beating of the heart under his ear.

  He didn’t even notice falling asleep.

  Chapter 8

  Logan had never been a particularly religious person. But he thought if God existed, the rain would stop by the morning and he’d able to escape the shelter.

  If God existed, he clearly didn’t give a damn about him.

  He woke up the next morning to the monotonous drumming of the rain.

  Logan sighed and looked at the guy sprawled on his chest. The gaps in the shelter let in just enough daylight to see.

  He stared at Andrew’s deceptively sweet face, at his parted lips that kept brushing against Logan’s chest every time he breathed, his long, dark eyelashes, and that smooth, golden skin.

  Logan looked away and shoved the guy off him.

  The confused cursing would have been amusing if Logan wasn’t in such a shitty mood.

  This had been a terrible idea. What had he been thinking?

  “Dick,” Andrew grumbled sleepily.

  Logan got to his feet and went outside naked. He pissed, brushed his teeth, and then washed himself in the lukewarm rain, glowering at the gray sky.

  He was tempted to just stay outside, the rain be damned, but no matter how warm it was, staying wet all day was a bad idea. They couldn’t afford getting sick. They didn’t have any medicine. They were also running low on toothpaste and salt, and their blankets were becoming unsalvageable even without getting jizz all over them.

  Logan ran a hand over his face, his shoulders sagging.

  All right. What was done was done. There was no use crying over spilled milk. Last night had been a mistake, but he wouldn’t repeat it. He’d just been frustrated. On edge. As long as he kept his dick out of that repressed little shit, it would be all right. One ill-advised sort-of-fuck didn’t have to change anything.

  Feeling a little better, Logan returned to the shelter.

  Andrew was stretched out on his belly, sleeping peacefully on Logan’s bedding. He was still naked.

  Logan’s jaw clenched, his newfound calm evaporating in a flash. He tore his eyes away from that bubble butt and kicked Andrew on the shin. “Get off my bed.”

  Andrew just mumbled something sleepily and ignored him.

  Logan’s eyes returned to th
at smooth, plump ass. He was only a man.

  Tearing his gaze away again, Logan leaned down and growled into Andrew’s ear, “Get. Off. My. Bed. Or I’ll take it as an invitation to fuck you.”

  Andrew stiffened before sitting up so fast their heads nearly knocked.

  He glared at Logan sleepily, raking a hand through his hair. “Fuck off,” he said, his cheeks pink. “It’s bad enough that you molested me last night. If you think I’ll let you do—do…” His blush deepened, and he scowled, unable to meet Logan’s eyes.

  Snorting, Logan stretched out on his bedding. He watched through half-lidded eyes as Andrew just sat there, looking embarrassed and lost. Logan almost felt sorry for him—the guy clearly was freaking out about what had happened last night—except he didn’t like Andrew enough to feel true sympathy for him. Mostly Andrew just annoyed him—and turned him on, which only annoyed him more. But fuck, he was lovely. His hair had grown out of his short haircut and now was a mess of light brown curls, and his plump lips were practically asking to be kissed or have a hard cock stretching them. And those ridiculous eyelashes—

  “You done ogling me?” Andrew said.

  “No,” Logan said, letting his gaze travel down Andrew’s body, his arousal spiking at seeing all that smooth, golden skin. His gaze lingered on Andrew’s nipples, brown and pretty. He’d never thought nipples could be pretty, but somehow, Andrew’s were.

  Logan shifted his gaze to the ceiling, annoyed both with Andrew and himself.

  Enough. He wasn’t a goddamn teenager. He could keep it in his pants.

  ***

  It set the pattern for the rest of the day.

  Andrew kept sulking and making snide remarks about being molested the previous night—and how Logan was never allowed to put his dirty paws on him again—but he stuck close to Logan all the same. Granted, their proximity was enforced by the rain, but Andrew really didn’t have to sit quite as close to him while they ate their meager meal. It put Logan in a shitty mood, his nerves raw and his body on edge.

  As night fell, they stretched out on their pathetic “beds.”

  Logan stared at the ceiling of the shelter, listening to the rhythm of the falling rain. The sound was depressing. Lonely. It made him long for another person’s warmth. For another person’s touch—for something. He felt like crawling out of his own skin and doing something. Something ill-advised.