by Ella Frank
“Lie down on your back, spread your legs, and show me how much you want me inside you.”
The idea apparently made Logan’s dick really happy, because he finally had to grip the base of it to get it under control.
“And what are you going to do while I’m showing you?”
Tate placed a knee on the end of the bed and smirked. “Guess you’ll find out when you do what you’re told, won’t you?”
Sexy fucker. If he wants a show, I’ll give him one.
Logan turned, pulled two pillows to the center of the bed, and then lay down on his back with his legs spread apart. Tate was exactly where he’d been when Logan had been on his knees, but his hand was once again stroking.
Logan reached down and began to slowly rub his balls. Tate’s eyes dropped to watch him manipulate his skin, and he bit his bottom lip between his teeth as if trying to hold back a groan. Logan widened his legs a little more under Tate’s inspection and brought his palm up to stroke it over his erection—fuck, it feels amazing.
“Bend your legs. Feet flat on the sheets.”
The hoarse command from Tate came as Logan felt the mattress between his feet dip. His eyes flicked to Tate’s as he climbed onto the bed and knelt between his ankles.
Logan bent his legs at the knees until he was sure Tate could see everything. He was about to bring his hand to his mouth and lick it so he could get a sweet slide going, but Tate halted him.
“No more. Hands by your sides.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly as he asked, “Why?”
Before he could even think about what Tate meant, he moved farther up the bed and placed his hands on Logan’s inner thighs, pushing them down to the mattress until he was spread wide open.
Logan couldn’t look away as Tate lowered his head and ran his warm, wet tongue over the underside of his cock. He dragged it all the way up to the swollen head, where he clearly enjoyed cleaning up the pre-come he found there.
Logan gripped the sheets on either side of his body and shoved his hips up toward Tate’s mouth. Again, Tate moved back down to where he’d begun, but instead of following that same wicked path, he sucked one of Logan’s balls between his lips.
“Jesus Christ, Tate.”
He felt Tate’s hands smooth down under his thighs and wrap around them before he pulled him slightly down the bed and raised his head.
“Is there a problem?” he asked, and Logan’s hands clenched and unclenched in the sheets beside him.
“No,” he answered, his voice ragged.
Logan craned his neck to see the mop of curls between his thighs, and then the tease blew a warm breath over his wet skin. Logan felt his ass clench as he pumped his hips up.
“Logan?”
Logan was finding it hard to fucking concentrate, let alone talk, so all he managed was, “Hmm?”
“I want to watch you fuck your hand and my fingers. Think you can do that?”
Logan was pretty sure he must have passed out at Cole’s and was having one hell of a fucking sex dream, because the Tate that was currently between his thighs had somehow crawled inside his brain and discovered all the right buttons to make him want to detonate.
When he didn’t immediately respond, his dirty, sex-talking Tate released the hold he had around his thighs and began to crawl up the bed.
Logan’s mouth opened quickly then as he promised, “Yes, yes. I can do that. Whatever you want. Where are you going?”
The smile that slowly morphed Tate’s lips was depraved, and Logan wondered where the fuck it had come from because—holy shit—it was potent.
With their eyes still connected, Tate’s mouth found his. “I’m getting the lube so I can stretch you nice and wide for my cock. That’s okay with you, right?”
Any questions Logan may have had left his fucking head after that comment, but as Tate hovered over him waiting for an answer, he did manage, “That’s fine.”
“Fine?” Tate repeated in a disbelieving voice. Then he lowered his mouth to Logan’s ear. “It’s going to be much better than fine, Logan. You know why? I can be dirty too, just like you.”
Damn. He’d known Tate would be the one to give him what he wanted. He just hadn’t known in how many ways.
“That’s what you want, isn’t it? Someone who won’t always let you win? Someone that is more than happy to be sucked and fucked but will also return the favor? Mark my words, fine has no business with what we’re about to do.”
Logan closed his eyes and tried to calm himself as Tate licked his fucking cheek. When their cocks grazed one another, he couldn’t help the loud moan that ripped from his throat. The foreplay was close to killing him.
As the tip of Tate’s tongue tickled his earlobe, Logan turned his head and finally told him, “Yes, that’s what I want. You. The dirtier, the fucking better.”
Apparently Tate liked that answer, because he growled and slammed their mouths together. Logan couldn’t help but reach for the hips rolling over his groin. He dug his fingers into the warm skin and pushed his pelvis up as his eyes closed and the kiss continued.
The taste of Tate was always the same—a hint of cinnamon and a fuck-ton of sex—and Logan was convinced he was addicted.
Ripping his mouth away, he focused on the man above him. “Hurry.”
Tate hovered over him and then leaned to the side to grab the lube. When he came back, he kissed Logan’s ear, whispered, “No,” and then slid down his body.
I’m fucked, Logan thought. Even though it wasn’t quite true yet, he knew it would be as he looked down at the gorgeous man between his thighs, and he couldn’t wait.
* * *
Tate pushed Logan’s legs apart as he moved down the bed, rubbing his own cock on the cool sheets as he went. He couldn’t wait to sink into Logan, but he wanted him out-of-his-mind crazy before he did that, and Tate knew just how to get him there.
Logan had hinted a few times that he liked it a little rough and hard when it came to his turn at being on the bottom, and Tate wanted to give him that.
Tonight, Logan seemed to need something. He wasn’t saying exactly what it was, but Tate was fairly sure it had a lot to do with him taking control, and he was more than willing.
When he was situated between Logan’s thighs, his mouth only inches from his cock, Tate raised his eyes over the rippling abs and impressive chest and reminded himself of his goal. Take Logan.
He grabbed the lube, and as he opened it, the legs on either side of him tensed. That power he’d felt earlier was back. When it came to having it over Logan, Tate loved it.
“Nervous?” he asked as he poured some of the cool liquid onto his fingers. It was about time he had Logan on edge, especially since, most of the time, it was the other way around.
“Wrong word,” he heard Logan respond.
Tate reached out, wrapped his fingers around the base of Logan’s thick shaft, and asked, “Then what’s the right word?”
Logan punched his hips up, sliding his hardened flesh through Tate’s fist, and managed, “Turned the fuck on.”
Tate began gliding his hand up and down and told him, “That’s four words.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” Logan muttered as Tate continued giving him a slow handjob.
“Give me your hand, Logan.”
Logan immediately offered his right hand, and Tate stopped what he was doing, causing a throaty groan to emerge.
“Fuck. Don’t stop.”
Tate chuckled and entwined their fingers, making Logan’s as slippery as his. “I’m not going to, and neither are you. Show me. Show me how you get off whenever you think about me. Just like the other night in the car.”
Tate loved the sinful look Logan gave as his fingers wrapped around his cock without reservation, and he pressed his head back on the pillow to jerk off.
Fuck. He loved the uninhibited way Logan just went for it.
Tate turned his head, licked a spot high on Logan’s inner thigh, and heard a curse rip through t
he bedroom.
“Show me,” he whispered again so his breath caressed Logan’s tight balls.
Logan tilted his hips, and Tate brought a hand up to trace a lubed finger under his balls to the dark shadow between his cheeks. He pushed his finger over the tight skin and into the crease until he found what he was looking for.
Tate’s face was so close to Logan’s body that he couldn’t help but suck one of his balls back into his mouth, which had Logan reaching for a fistful of his hair.
Tate rubbed his finger back and forth over the sensitive nerves of Logan’s ass, continuing to give him a tongue-lashing as he writhed around under him. The noises coming from Logan were sexy, raw, and tortured as he masturbated, and Tate could feel his own cock pulsing against the mattress.
He removed his mouth from Logan’s hot flesh and raised his head. He wanted to watch when Logan came undone. Slowly, Tate slid the tip of his finger inside, and when he felt Logan push his hips down to take him deeper, he knew what Logan wanted and thrust his finger in all the way.
Logan’s eyes opened, and that burning blue gaze found him. Tate swore he felt the heat coming from them as Logan pumped his cock and licked his full bottom lip.
Fuck, he’s beautiful.
The thought almost knocked Tate out of his sexual daze until Logan closed his eyes, severing the connection, and started a desperate rhythm.
Tate withdrew his finger from Logan’s vise-like passage and then slipped it back inside.
I’m so fucking screwed.
He’d thought he was going to unravel Logan’s secrets, but as he added a second finger and Logan’s body took it, sucking him inside, Tate knew he was also coming undone. He was starting to realize that he wanted to do anything and everything when it came to this man, and wasn’t that eye opening?
He needed to do something, and fucking fast.
Tate gently bit Logan’s thigh, and the hand in his hair tightened.
Yes, touch me. Make me brave.
Tate removed his fingers and kneeled between Logan’s legs, reaching for his left ankle. He watched Logan’s eyes widen when he placed his foot against his chest. As he slowly lowered down, almost splitting Logan in half, Tate decided.
He could be brave and he wanted back inside.
* * *
A hiss of air left Logan as Tate tunneled two thick fingers back inside him. He practically had one foot on Tate’s shoulder as he worked his fingers in and out of him—and Logan wanted more.
He’d known Tate would likely break him, and when he came down so he could kiss the fuck out of him as he stretched him open, Logan realized that he’d really had no clue.
He feverishly tugged himself as Tate’s voice filled the room.
“Feelin’ good, Logan?”
Logan knew that line well, and he had a feeling Tate was enjoying the turned tables—but then again, so was he. “Fuck yes.”
Tate nuzzled his lips and nose into the crook of his shoulder, and Logan couldn’t keep his hips still to save himself. He could feel Tate’s cock leaking all over his thigh and knew he was close to being well and truly fucked, but first—
“More?”
Logan heard the tentative question whispered in his ear, and his ass clenched around the fingers scissoring apart his hole.
More? Fuck yes.
“Give it to me.”
Tate traced the shell of his ear with his tongue and pulled his fingers slowly from his body. When they came back, Logan felt three fingertips pushing and testing.
He turned his face until they were lip to lip and confessed, “I’d take all four and a thumb if I had the fucking patience, but I don’t. Now hurry the fuck up, Tate. Give it to me.”
His words shocked Tate. He could tell by the way his eyes widened, but as the meaning and apparently the visual sank in, Tate pushed his fingers inside him and Logan watched his eyes dilate.
“Yes, Tate. Yes,” he growled and had to squeeze the hell out of his cock to stop himself from coming.
He started to writhe uncontrollably under Tate as his prostate was given a good fucking massage. All the while, Tate’s hips were moving and his hard-on kept rubbing against his thigh.
Logan reached out a hand, grabbing the curls falling down over Tate’s forehead, and demanded through a harsh breath, “What are you trying to do, kill me?”
Tate shook his head. “No. I’m making you mine.”
Logan released his hard-on and grabbed Tate’s ass, pulling him up so he could rub their cocks together. “Don’t you know? I’m already yours.”
* * *
Tate’s entire body stilled.
The hand he had between Logan’s thighs, the fingers in his tight channel, and his own pumping hips all stopped moving until all he could hear was the loud breathing in the otherwise silent room.
He slowly removed his fingers and planted his hands by Logan’s head, and as he focused on the man under him, he finally understood what was going on.
Logan was giving himself over, finally admitting he was in this—really in this.
“I want to feel your hands on me,” Tate said. He waited as Logan smoothed his hands over his sides then down to his ass. “I want them on me all the time,” he admitted and lowered his mouth to kiss Logan’s.
“Tate, I need…”
He didn’t need to be told any more. Tate needed it too.
He grabbed the condom off the side table and made quick work of it. Then he was back between Logan’s legs, which were now wrapping around his waist.
Tate lowered a hand down between them and ran a finger over him, just to make sure he was—
“Fuck, Tate. Now.”
—ready.
He smiled against the bossy mouth that had finally resurfaced and slowly sank his cock inside Logan’s eager body. Tate groaned from the unbelievable pleasure he felt, and when Logan circled his arms around his neck and pulled him down to take his mouth, he went.
The heels digging into his ass encouraged him to move, and as Tate began to thrust his hips, Logan lay back and let him have him. With his coal-black hair pressed into the pillow and the veins in his neck standing out as he grit his teeth, Logan closed his eyes.
Tate watched his face and wondered if he’d ever seen anything as spectacular.
Logan in the throes of sexual bliss was a fucking masterpiece. He offered no apologies as he reached down to his cock and began jerking it as if he’d never get the chance again, and as Tate continued moving inside him, he felt his balls tightening.
He was ready. He wanted Logan to come all over the both of them and then he’d finish in the snug, hot home his dick was currently burrowed inside.
His fingers gripped the pillow under Logan’s head as a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead and fell onto Logan’s upper lip. He watched in rapt fascination as those sexy eyes opened and Logan’s tongue came out and licked his sweat—that was the trigger.
Tate’s hips picked up the pace, and nothing could stop him.
When Logan’s orgasm hit, his entire body bowed up off the bed, causing the firm muscle surrounding Tate’s cock to clench and tighten, making them both shout loud enough to bring down the fucking walls.
This was no longer about sex.
As Tate pressed his forehead against Logan’s, he likened it to a religious experience. Logan had fundamentally changed him, made him see the light—Or the fucking stars—and there was no way he could ever be unchanged.
When Logan’s lips parted beneath his own, Tate swept his tongue inside and pushed the hair away from his face.
“You’re a beautiful man, Logan Mitchell.”
Logan grinned and palmed his ass. “You look so confused saying that. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
Tate shook his head. “No, I’m not worried about people knowing. I just never associated beauty with…”
“A man?” Logan guessed.
Tate nodded and then chuckled. “Stupid, huh?”
“No, not at all,” Logan disagreed.
“I think you’re beautiful too. Fucking gorgeous to be exact.”
Tate felt a blush hit his cheeks and wondered how the fuck that could be after what they’d just done. He slowly pulled out of Logan, and as he stood and removed the condom, he said quite seriously, “Tomorrow, I’m going to talk to my mom again. I won’t hide from my family, Logan.”
Logan moved up onto his elbows. “Okay.”
Tate walked toward the bathroom door to clean up before bed, but before he got there, Logan called out to him. He stopped and turned back to see that Logan had lain back down and was staring at the ceiling.
“I meant what I said earlier. I’m already yours, so whatever you need...”
Tate wanted to respond and opened his mouth to do so but found that nothing would come out.
13.
By the time Tate made it out of the shower, the bed had been stripped and remade with navy-blue sheets under a white duvet. Logan was nowhere to be found.
With a towel secured firmly around his hips, Tate walked out into the dark living space and found him standing at the door to his balcony.
The city lights made for an impressive backdrop, but it was the man standing at the door that held all of his attention. Logan had pulled on his sweatpants, and his hands were resting loosely in his pockets.
Tate wasn’t sure what mood he was about to encounter since he couldn’t see Logan’s face, but he figured that the stillness in the room and the rigid posture were pretty good indicators that the wall Logan usually stood behind was back.
“I’m all done,” he announced, trying to break the silence.
Logan glanced over his shoulder, and Tate noticed his glasses back in place. Kind of like a defense mechanism—Logan’s version of a shield.
“Sounds good.”
That was it. That was all he got before Logan looked away.
Tate made his way past the glass coffee table and stopped beside him, staring out at the buildings. He wasn’t sure what was going through Logan’s head, so he didn’t know where to start. Instead, he stood beside him and waited.