by Ella Frank
Tonight, he was not wearing his glasses, and as their eyes collided and held, Logan raised a hand, pushing his fingers through his glistening black hair, and Tate felt his cock stir and his mouth dry.
The material of Logan’s shirt was glued to every muscle of his body from his solid arms to his flat abdomen. Those tailored dress pants were molded to his thighs and cradled the bulge in between, like a lover would, like he would.
Fuck, the man is hot.
Logan began walking toward him, and all Tate could think was, He should always be dressed in wet clothes. As he passed several other waterlogged customers, Tate noticed them looking him over as well, probably wondering how he still looked so appealing when he was just as wet as the rest of them.
Tate took in the water droplets sliding down Logan’s cheek, and his breathing faltered. When those same droplets then continued down to disappear into his shirt—holy shit—Tate knew he wanted to follow them with his tongue, and he wanted it now.
After what seemed like hours instead of minutes, Logan stopped in front of him.
Tate knew that the sexual longing he was feeling had to be written all over his face because the first thing out of Logan’s mouth was, “Do you have somewhere we can maybe dry me off?”
Tate didn’t hesitate, not even for a moment. If Logan wanted to go somewhere private, Tate was going to be the one to show him there. He was also going to be the one to stand and watch—or participate—as he dried off.
“Yeah, break room.” Tate stayed exactly where he was, fearing that Logan would disappear if he moved.
“Tate?”
Tate passed the towel between his hands. “Yeah?”
“Take me there.”
Stepping away from the bar, Tate turned, threw the towel on the back counter, and made his way down to the bar pass. He opened it up, and as Logan walked through past him, Tate could smell the aftershave lingering on his body.
Amelia walked up to the bar at that exact moment and looked between the two of them before focusing on Tate.
“Will you be okay for a few minutes? I’m just going to give him a towel from the back.”
Amelia’s mouth kicked up at the edges. “Yeah, Stacy just came back from her break, so we’ll be okay for a while. No rush.”
Tate had a feeling she was sizing him up, and more than likely, she was coming up with the correct assumption—especially considering Logan chose to move up and push against Tate’s side with his whole body, including the hardening cock he’d admired only moments ago. Before Tate had a chance to step away, he heard Logan whisper, “Hurry up, I want to taste you,” and that was all Tate needed.
Turning on his heel, Tate made his way to the back of the bar and into the break room that—thank God—was empty. As he entered silently, he was happy to hear the door click and lock. When he turned and saw Logan against the door, all Tate could think was, Now. I want him right now.
* * *
Logan might not have known the specifics of what was running through Tate’s mind, but he knew whatever it was, it was one hundred percent sexual.
The man had tracked him across the bar like a hunter stalking its prey, and for once, Logan had felt his own step falter. The fierce craving in Tate’s expression had made it difficult to walk from point A to point B and stay somewhat decent. But now? Now, as Logan stood there, with his back to the locked door and Tate looking at him like he wanted to consume him—well, Logan did nothing to conceal the way his cock was upright and erect.
“You’re so wet,” Tate uttered.
Logan felt an ironic laugh leave his throat. “Now, that’s something I bet you never expected to say to me.”
Before Logan could even blink, Tate was crushed up against his front with one of his legs maneuvered between his own. A stifled grunt escaped Logan as Tate opened his mouth and teased his tongue along his jaw to his ear where he told him in a voice that was gravelly and full of longing, “You look so hot right now. I wish I had the time to fuck you right here, right against the wall like you once dared me to.”
“Jesus, Tate.”
“Everyone in that bar watched you, all of them. You might as well take off your shirt with the way it’s sticking to you. Christ.” Tate nuzzled his lips under Logan’s ear where he gnawed gently with his teeth. “And this,” he explained, copping a quick feel between Logan’s legs, “I want this.”
“Then, fucking take it,” Logan goaded.
Nimble fingers found his belt buckle, and he heard the metallic snick and clink of it as it came undone. Then, the hot mouth by his ear was back, promising him exactly what he’d been fantasizing about.
“I want you in my mouth.”
Logan turned his head against the door and met the eyes blazing back at him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Goddamn it, Logan. What have you done to me?”
Logan lifted his hand and pushed it into Tate’s hair. Holding it tight, he brought the man’s mouth to his own where he breathed against his lips, “Nothing yet, but I have plans. Get on your knees, Tate.”
Logan held his breath and congratulated himself for standing still as Tate lowered himself to his knees and looked up at him.
* * *
Tate’s heart was thumping in his chest. He was down on his knees, and Logan’s hand was still tangled in his hair. Raising his face, he stared up at the man, leaning back against the door.
With his shirt still stuck to his skin, Logan’s tie looked beyond saving. Tate continued to watch his eyes darken. As the fingers in his hair loosened, the same hand smoothing over the back of his head, Tate was able to push aside the slight nerves he felt at what he was about to do.
Getting up onto his knees, Tate quickly undid the button and zipper of Logan’s pants. With them hanging open and the belt and water weighing them down, he looked back up to Logan, lifted his hand, and slid his fingers into the elastic of the black boxers.
He paused for a moment and asked, “Yes?”
“Hell yes,” Logan replied, thrusting his hips forward.
Tate followed a drop of water as it fell from the end of Logan’s tie and hit the back of his hand. Tate leaned forward and licked his own hand, and heard an expletive from above. He slipped his fingers further inside the material and pulled them down. Knowing they didn’t have long helped Tate to shove aside any doubt he might have had, and as he freed Logan’s erection, he found himself licking his lips.
“Oh God, Tate.”
Tate looked up to where Logan was watching him like a hawk. “What? I didn’t do anything.”
“You’re looking at me like you’re about to eat your favorite fucking meal.”
That boosted Tate’s confidence to a whole other level, and he smiled up at Logan as he encircled the base of the shaft in front of him. As Logan’s mouth fell open, Tate told him, “Who knows? Maybe I am.”
“God, please let that be the fucking truth,” Logan gritted out between a clenched jaw.
Tate lowered his eyes to his hand and glided his fist up the swollen, aching flesh he held. “What do you like?”
“Think about what you like and just—”
Tate flicked his tongue across the glistening tip, and Logan’s entire body vibrated against him.
He finished his thought by saying, “Ah shit, yes. Do that.”
Feeling encouraged, Tate did it again—lingering, he ran his tongue all around the head and down under to the sensitive glans. Checking to see if he was doing okay, he figured he must have been because Logan had shut his eyes, and his head was back against the door.
Constricting his fist, Tate drew his hand up the long length, and this time, when he lowered his lips, he sucked the head inside his mouth. The salty taste of pre-cum was the first thing Tate acknowledged, just before the rain-soaked, earthy scent that was all Logan hit him. This was definitely different, but as he relaxed into it, Tate became aware of how much he was enjoying it.
“Oh fuck. Fuck, Tate.”
Hearing his name being cursed ou
t above him was a major turn-on, but when Logan’s fingers curled in his hair, Tate knew he could become addicted to this. Down on his knees in front of Logan, he held all the power because, right now, Logan was his.
Releasing Logan’s shaft, Tate raised both hands and framed it with his thumbs and fingers. As it pointed out toward him, he sucked the tip back into his mouth, and then he took a deep breath and lowered his lips. He made it as far as he could before drawing up, feeling light-headed from the lack of oxygen.
“Breathe through your nose.”
Tate glanced up, slightly embarrassed, to see Logan staring down at him.
“When you do that again—and please, you have to do it again—breathe through your nose.”
Taking in the instruction, Tate once again lowered his head, but before he sucked him between his lips, he stopped and blew a breath across Logan’s wet skin. It was something he himself always liked, and judging by the hand that pulled his face closer to the cock waiting for him, it was also something Logan liked, too.
* * *
Hell, even when he’s not trying, Tate is a tease.
Every single move he made was designed to turn Logan on even more than he already was—or maybe it was just who was doing it.
As it was, with Tate on his knees and between his thighs, Logan was finding it difficult not to ram his hips forward and slide to the back of Tate’s throat.
Oh yeah, I can’t wait until I can do that, and fucking shoot my load all over his tongue. But Logan didn’t want to freak Tate out, and the slow, tentative way Tate was lowering his lips down him was sweet torture all on its own.
Closing his eyes, Logan concentrated on the small noises he could hear, and the fact that it was Tate making the sucking sounds was almost enough to make him lose it right there. Tate had his lips wrapped around his cock, and it was driving Logan insane to even think about it.
As the man in front of him seemed to grow more confident in his actions, Logan felt one of the hands on his groin move down between his legs, and he couldn’t help the curse that left him when that hand cupped his balls.
“Motherfucker.”
“Hmm,” Tate hummed as if he was—please let him be—enjoying every single thing he was doing.
Clasping Tate’s head, Logan gradually began to move his hips, sliding past the lips tormenting him. The hand between his thighs slowly pushed his balls up as Tate drew his mouth off him and leaned in to press his lips against Logan’s lower abdomen.
Logan hadn’t expect Tate to do anything other than what was the necessary, but as he stood there, Tate shoved his damp shirt aside and ran his tongue over the muscles beneath his navel. He rooted his nose in against Logan’s skin as though he loved the smell of him, and then with a hand on Logan’s balls and his chin bumping against his erection, Tate raised his eyes to meet with his.
The look of absolute lust and acceptance at what he was doing made Logan want to strip him of his clothes and take Tate on the floor—fuck the fact that he was at work. Instead, he took Tate’s head with both hands and urged him up his body. Logan wanted his mouth.
When Tate got to his feet, Logan attacked his lips, lowering one hand to the man’s ass and keeping one on his head. Tate’s body slammed against his, and he could feel the erection inside of Tate’s pants as he thrust hard against him.
Logan tasted the mouth that had just been wrapped around him, and as Tate sucked on his tongue, his hands found Logan’s tie, trying to loosen it. As he worked it free of the knot, so it hung loosely, Tate removed his mouth and lowered his lips to Logan’s neck.
Logan’s head thunked back on the door, and his cock continued to rub over Tate’s clothing as he heard the labored breathing by his ear.
“Congratulations,” Logan heard whispered as Tate’s hand snaked down between them, and his fingers wrapped around him.
“On?” he pushed past the lump in his throat.
Tate raised his head and looked him right in the eye. “Corrupting me.”
“I corrupted you? You’re the one stroking my dick.”
Tate stepped away from him and lowered back down onto his knees. “Yes, and you’re the one who convinced me to try, and now, I can’t seem to fucking stop.”
Logan’s mouth curved as he ran his finger down Tate’s stubble to his chin where he traced the masculine lips. “Then, by all means, don’t.”
* * *
Tate had been telling the truth. He couldn’t get enough of Logan as he opened his mouth and felt him slide back in along his tongue. Concentrating on his breathing, Tate closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of Logan, using his mouth in a way he’d never done before. It was a unique experience—to be giving something and knowing exactly how good it felt to be the one receiving it. Tate knew how it felt to fuck a hot, willing mouth. Shit, he knew how good it was to slide into Logan’s.
Placing his hands on Logan’s legs, Tate felt the power of the muscles flex beneath his palms. Everything about what he was doing was arousing him—the cock between his lips, the soft grunts he could hear coming from Logan, and the hands holding him still, so his mouth could be used. Oh yeah. He hadn’t been lying. This was exactly what he wanted, and there was no way he was stopping.
Trailing his left hand down between Logan’s thighs, Tate moved his fingers in under his balls and pushed a single digit between those hot ass cheeks, and the reaction was immediate. The hands on his head jerked him closer as Tate’s finger burrowed higher until he found the warm hole he was searching for. When the tip of his finger touched against Logan, Tate lifted his vision to find Logan staring at him as he huffed through parted lips and continued to jam his hips forward, making sure he filled Tate’s mouth.
Tate, curious to see how Logan would react, slid his fingertip inside the other man and watched as Logan bared his teeth at him. His eyes narrowed as his ass clenched around Tate’s finger, and then Logan shoved as deep as he could go, making Tate cough and falter. As Logan seemed to realize what had happened, he began to pull out, but Tate chased him and took him back inside, craving that kind of intense reaction.
Gone now was the tease. Gone was the lesson on the hows and whys. Now came the need—the need to finish, the need to come, and the need to be part of the other person.
As Tate felt his cheeks become damp, he realized his eyes must have been watering, but he was determined, and he wanted this. When Logan looked down at him, Tate made sure to swirl his tongue around the cock pulled from his mouth.
“I’m really close, Tate. If you don’t want this—”
Tate didn’t answer verbally. Instead, he slid his lips forward over Logan until the other man got the message and started up a fast rhythm of pumping in and out of his mouth.
Nothing had prepared Tate to feel as he did while he knelt before Logan with his mouth full and his fingers moving. As he watched the man above, who’d somehow crawled under his skin, he realized he was feeling things way beyond sex. He realized that the sex would never have happened if there wasn’t more there for him, and just as that realization hit him, Logan’s fingers twisted in his hair.
The cock in Tate’s mouth pulsated, and then a hot jet of salty fluid hit his tongue, shocking his taste buds. He pulled his lips off the man in front of him, and even though he hadn’t expected the heat or the flavor, Tate found his curiosity made him swallow.
“Jesus, you swallowed, too? You are perfect.”
Tate’s eyes crawled up the relaxed-looking Logan, and when they met, Tate touched his tongue to his bottom lip.
“Was it…you know, okay?”
Logan slid down the door until his ass was on the floor. “You literally made my knees give out.”
Tate leaned forward, but before he kissed Logan, he stopped.
“What?” Logan asked with a raised brow.
“Do you care if I kiss you…you know, after you just—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Logan grabbed him and took his mouth in a tongue-thrusting kiss.
Tate moaned with pent-up frustration and followed Logan until his back hit the door with a loud thump.
“I have to go back to work.”
“Be sick,” Logan suggested.
“All of a sudden?”
“Yes, yes. Be sick and come home, so I can do something about this,” Logan proposed, reaching down to milk Tate’s cock.
“I can’t. It’s too busy. Oh God,” he sighed as Logan’s hand continued working him. “God…stop. It’s gonna be hard enough to work with you sitting out there.”
“Yeah?” Logan teased as he released him.
Tate pushed away and stood up. “Yeah. Don’t fuck with me out there.”
“Hmm, okay. Maybe I can wait until I get you home. Come on, aren’t you curious yet?”
Tate didn’t know how to answer that. He was curious, especially after last night. He could admit that much, but he wasn’t quite ready to say it out loud. Plus, he knew the minute Logan was aware that he’d even entertained the possibility, he would be screwed—both literally and figuratively. So, he decided to ignore the question.
“Logan?”
“Yeah?” Logan responded from where he was busy tucking his damp shirt into his pants and zipping them.
“That was kind of insane.”
Logan looked over to him as he stilled. “In a good way?”
Tate nodded as he straightened his own shirt and watched Logan buckle his belt. “Yes, in an I-want-to-do-it-again way.”
Once Logan was as put-together as he could get, he strolled forward, and with no hesitation at all, he kissed Tate hard. “Feel free to get on your knees for me whenever you want. I’ll never complain.”
“Never?”
“Never,” he confirmed.
Tate laughed. “You’re too easy, you know that, right? You should play hard to get every now and then.”
Logan shrugged, and Tate caught himself wishing that he were that sure of himself.
“Why, when I know what I want?”
“And that is?” Tate asked, not really knowing why he needed the verbal confirmation, but he did.
“Are you fishing, Tate?”
“Maybe,” he answered.