by Ella Frank
Tate worried his tongue over his lip, and then he was moving. He kicked his shoes off and shoved his thumbs into the sides of his jeans and boxers, and Logan moved aside so he could bend over and push them both to his ankles. Once they were gone, the socks removed also, Tate straightened and was naked as the day he was born.
Logan placed his hand back where it had been by his head, and then lowered his other to take hold of Tate’s stiff cock. When Tate cursed and squeezed his eyes shut, Logan flicked his tongue over his earlobe and said, “You know you deserve a whole lot of payback for what you pulled out there. Don’t you?”
Tate turned his head, and the sunlight slipping through the wood-paneled walls of the barn bathed his face, making his eyes the color of copper. He was gorgeous, and frustrated, as his jaw bunched and ticked. It was obvious he wanted Logan to move his hand, but Logan wanted him to make him beg.
“I ahh…” Tate started, until Logan tightened his grip. “Fuck, Logan.”
“Yes,” Logan said, ghosting his lips over Tate’s. “We already established that’s going to happen. And very soon, but first,” he said, giving Tate a final squeeze, “first I’m going to hold true to my word and get my fingers and tongue inside you. Because with how I’m feeling, you’re going to need to be good and stretched to handle me.”
TATE SHUT HIS eyes to try and get himself under some kind of control, because he knew if he didn’t rein it in here and now, he’d come the second Logan’s tongue touched any part of him. And fuck, I want to enjoy that dirty-talking tongue.
When he opened his eyes back up, it was to see Logan now naked, kicking his stiff, wet jeans away from him, and Tate couldn’t help the smirk it brought to his lips.
As Logan walked back the couple of steps needed so he was standing close enough that their cocks were grazing, he speared his fingers through Tate’s hair and pulled him forward from the wall.
“Laugh it up, because you won’t be for long,” Logan said, and then he crushed his lips down over the top of Tate’s.
Tate’s hands went to his hips in an instant, as Logan wrapped his other arm around his waist and flattened his palm on his lower back. Tate slid his tongue inside Logan’s mouth to rub it up against the one tangling with his, and when he felt Logan’s index finger slide down between his cheeks, Tate bucked his hips forward, wanting more.
Logan twisted the fingers he had in his hair and tugged his head back so he could press kisses up Tate’s jaw to his ear. When Tate grunted, Logan shifted them both, pivoting to the left so he could back him up until his ass was against the bed of the truck, and then he started to grind his erection against Tate’s.
Tate ran his hands down to grab a firm ass cheek in each hand and pull Logan as close as he could physically get him as Logan brought their lips back together in a kiss that bordered on brutal. Tongues dueled, lips were bitten, and when Logan finally tore his mouth free, it was swollen and red, and made Tate want to either suck it or fuck it. Either way would be fine with him.
Logan took a step back, and the both of them reached down to fist their dicks as they sized each other up. Naked and fully aroused, they were both clearly ready to go, and Tate couldn’t stop himself from spitting in his palm and starting to really jerk himself off.
“You dirty fucker,” Logan said as his eyes greedily took in all that he was seeing, and Tate could tell by the way Logan had to clamp a fist around the base of his cock that he loved what he was looking at.
Him, leaning bare-assed up against the side of the truck with his legs spread and his fist rapidly stroking his aching length.
“I’m going to let you keep doing that. But don’t you dare come until my cock’s inside you. Got it?”
Tate nodded, but said nothing as Logan took the couple of steps needed to stop in front of him again, and then he reached around to the back of the truck.
Logan bit the shoulder closest to him, and when he straightened with an old blanket that had been left in there from the last time they’d visited and taken the truck to the beach, he folded it over once and then dropped it on the ground at his feet. And Tate knew whatever was about to follow was going to test every ounce of control he possessed.
Chapter Twenty-Four
LOGAN WAS ABOUT to tell Tate to brace himself or something along those lines, he was sure. But before he got the words out, Tate brought his left hand up again to spit in his palm. It was filthy, obscene, and made his erection ache like a motherfucker.
With a groan, Logan decided to hell with talking, and went down to his knees in front of Tate before the guy got himself off and Logan didn’t get a chance to do all the things he wanted to do to him. And there’s a whole fucking list of them.
When he was exactly where he wanted to be, Logan looked up at Tate and smiled. Not a sweet I love you kind of smile. No, Logan knew the smile he’d just sent Tate’s way said, I love you, but there isn’t going to be anything sweet about what’s going to happen next.
Logan moved up to his knees, braced his palms on Tate’s muscled thighs, and squeezed, then lowered his head to drag his tongue from the base of Tate’s cock up to the tip. As he did, he heard Tate curse, so he did it again, and this time when he reached the flushed head, Logan flicked his tongue over it to clean up the pre-cum that had gathered at the slit.
“Shit,” Tate said, and Logan peered up at him to see his eyes locked on him.
“Everything okay up there?”
When Tate quickly nodded, Logan looked back at the veiny length only inches from his face. Tate’s left hand was clamped around the root, and Logan said, “Hook your arms inside the bed of the truck.”
As the request made it to his ears, Tate took in a shuddering breath and released his hold to hook his arms over the sides of the truck. The position put Tate’s body on complete display for Logan. His arms were out of the way so his chest and abs were visible, and so was the erection jutting proudly out toward Logan’s face.
“Fucking hell. Yes. That’s perfect,” Logan said, and then sat back on his heels for a second to take a look at the view this new position gave him. “Jesus, Tate, you look so damn fuckable. Spread your legs a little wider for me.”
When Tate complied, moving his bare feet farther apart, Logan groaned and licked his lips.
“Do you have any idea what I want to do to you right now?”
Tate’s eyes fell down to the hand Logan was using on himself, and he said in a voice that had gone a little hoarse, “I think I have some.”
“Oh yeah?” Logan said, moving up so he could circle Tate’s cock and hold it up to swipe a wet path over his balls and the underside of his length. “What do you think I’m going to do to you?”
Tate’s fiery eyes found Logan’s, and his face looked strained as he said, “Everything your depraved brain can think of until I can’t fucking stand it anymore. Or you can’t. Either way.”
Logan flashed him his most immoral smile and said, “Have I mentioned how much I love the fact you know me so well?”
Tate thrust his hips forward, and when his cock brushed Logan’s cheek, he said, “Not today, you haven’t.”
Logan directed Tate’s cock exactly where he wanted it, teased the underside of it with the tip of his tongue, and then said, “Then how about I just show you instead?”
Then he swallowed Tate between his lips, to the back of his throat.
TATE’S ARMS FLEXED, and he flattened his palms on the inside of the truck as Logan took his entire length down his throat, making a shout rip out of him.
Holy shit, he’s a master at that. He always had been from the first time to right now. Logan could render Tate useless in one second flat when he pulled that move, and as he did it over and over again, Tate squeezed his eyes shut and bit so hard into his bottom lip that he was surprised he didn’t draw blood.
His pulse was jackhammering with every suck of Logan’s mouth, every flick of his insatiable tongue, as he knelt at Tate’s feet in their barn with the doors wide open. It wasn’t
lost on Tate how on display he was, either. Logan’s naked ass and back were on show to anyone who might happen to stroll onto their property—even though that would be a first. And he was naked, standing stretched out with his arms behind him over a truck’s side to give Logan better access to himself, and his legs were braced wide apart so he could—
“Ahh…fuck.”
Logan’s lips had him fully surrounded, and somewhere in there—likely when my damn eyes were shut—the deviant at his feet had wet his fingers and was now slipping them back behind Tate’s balls to stroke one of them over his hole.
Tate’s eyes flew open, and he looked down at the dark head going to town on him. Logan’s nose was burrowed into his short, dark curls as he sucked him and fingered his back entrance, and when he finally drew his lips off, Logan aimed those blazing eyes up at Tate and tapped his right ankle.
Tate frowned, and Logan said, “Put it over my shoulder.”
The request made a shiver race up Tate’s spine, knowing how exposed that would leave him. It was just like that night after Spiagga, but this time he was standing, and nothing on the planet was going to stop him from following that order.
With his arms locked tight, Tate raised his leg, and then Logan put it exactly where he wanted it. Draped over his left shoulder, leaving Tate wide open and definitely all up in Logan’s face.
Tate panted as he looked at the scene the two of them made, because Christ it was hot, and then Logan turned the heat up even more. Slowly, so fucking slowly Tate thought he might die, Logan sucked his fingers into his mouth and then brought one between his spread legs to massage it over Tate’s hole.
Tate jerked forward, unable to help himself, and Logan used his other hand to guide Tate’s cock back into his mouth.
“Fuck…fuck,” he chanted, as Logan eased his finger in and out, breaching the tight muscle and starting to stretch him. Tate brought one hand around from where he was hanging on like his life depended on it and grabbed a fistful of Logan’s wet hair to hold him steady so he could fuck that hot, willing mouth.
Logan groaned around him as he continued to work him with his lips and finger, and when he rubbed against his prostate, Tate froze and yanked Logan’s mouth off him. “Jesus. You’re going to make me come.”
Logan gave him a smile that would rival the devil’s. “Turn around then and let me finish getting you ready. ’Cause I really need to get inside you.”
AS LOGAN GENTLY removed Tate’s leg from his shoulder, he sat back and waited for him to turn. He could taste the evidence of Tate’s arousal on his tongue, and it was all he could do not to just end it like that, because damn, he tasted good… But no, he was going to get in his man before they left this barn. Just as he’d threatened to do back when he’d first brought Tate here, all those years ago.
When Tate’s feet were both on the ground, he went to get up, and just when Logan thought he’d turn, Tate grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulled his head back, and fastened his mouth on top of his. His tongue delved inside and swept the interior of Logan’s mouth, and when Tate started to suck on his tongue, Logan had to clamp a fist around his dick and say a prayer that he wouldn’t come from a fucking kiss.
It wasn’t just a kiss, though. He knew what Tate was doing. He was indulging all of his senses by taking a kiss that tasted of himself. Tate growled and kept a firm hand in Logan’s hair and the other at his chin holding him steady so he could take what he wanted, and Logan didn’t have one goddamn problem with that.
When Logan’s lips were finally freed, Tate’s eyes were wild as he took a step away, turned as requested, and braced his hands on the side of the truck. And this time, Logan didn’t even have to request he spread his legs, he just did.
And hell if that isn’t the best fucking sight I’ve seen today, Logan thought, as he placed a palm on either side of Tate’s ass. He squeezed and spread him, teasing him, and when Tate was apparently done with being patient, he aimed a glare over his shoulder, and Logan drew the flat of his thumb over his hole, pushing it in just a little. When he removed it, Tate muttered a profanity and Logan chuckled.
“You want something, Tate?”
Logan saw him reach down and start stroking himself, and leaned forward to kiss and bite Tate’s right ass cheek. When Tate grunted and shoved back at him, Logan finally took pity on him, spread Tate apart, and swiped his tongue along the narrow channel of his ass.
The pleasure-filled moan that filled the barn was like music to Logan’s ears as he did it again, and this time when he raised his head, he eased his thumb deeper inside the tight muscle, loosening Tate up.
When Tate’s hips bucked again, Logan knew exactly what he wanted, and removed his hand so he could lower his head and get his tongue in on the action. He licked, sucked, and tongued his way along the shadowy cleft that the scent of their soap still clung to, and when he raised his head and eased one of his fingers all the way inside, Tate frantically pumped his cock and started to curse up a storm.
Damn, Tate was a greedy fucker when it came to getting eaten out, and Logan never would’ve guessed that to be something he would end up loving the most. But hell if he hadn’t been pleasantly surprised to find that out about Tate. His guy was as dirty as he was, and that pleased him down to the very corners of his kinky soul.
“Logan… God. Again. Fuck. I need something.”
Logan slowly withdrew his finger, licked over the stretched hole, and then sucked two digits into his mouth, got them good and wet, and eased them into Tate. A low growl left the man who was bent at the waist, braced naked against the truck, and Logan finger-fucked him until Tate was demanding he get up there and get his cock inside him.
Quickly, Logan turned and reached for Tate’s discarded jeans, knowing he kept his wallet in there, and when he dug it out and—yes, there you go—located a small packet of lube, he patted himself on the back for always teaching Tate to be well prepared. Both for life in general and for living with him, the man who always used any excuse to get inside Tate.
Getting to his feet, Logan tore open the packet with his teeth, squeezed most of it on him so he could lube up his cock, and slid his fingers in the hole so nicely waiting for him. Then he put his hand on Tate’s waist, bent over, and said in his ear, “Put your hand out.” And when Tate offered up his left hand, Logan squeezed the rest into his palm.
Things were about to get real hard, real fucking fast.
WITH ONE HAND on the edge of the truck, Tate wrapped his slick palm around his dick and braced himself the best he could. Logan’s hands were spreading him apart, and he could feel him teasing his hole with the head of his cock.
“You ready?”
Fuck, am I ever, Tate thought, but talking was proving a little too difficult for his brain right then. It was too busy trying to remind his heart to beat and his lungs to breathe, because Logan had him so wound up he was stunned to be functioning at any kind of capacity.
“Tate?” Logan asked again, and smoothed a hand midway up his back, and when Tate nodded, the hand left his spine, grabbed on to his hip, and finally, Logan slid inside him.
He moaned as the pleasure of being so unbelievably full overtook him, and Logan growled, “Fuck,” as his fingers dug into Tate’s waist.
Tate’s knuckles turned white where he gripped the truck’s side, and as Logan’s body stilled for a moment, he could hear him saying, “Damn, Tate. Fucking damn.”
Tate’s head hung forward as the hot throb of Logan’s erection pulsated inside of him, and as the rush he always got from being taken started to wash over him, Tate began to pump his cock.
As his hips began to move, sliding off Logan, he felt Logan grab hold and pull him back, tunneling into him as deep as he could get. Then Logan came down over the top of him and whispered, “Hang on.”
That was all the warning Tate got. After that, Logan went at him like a savage. Teeth bit into his shoulder. Fingernails made marks in his skin. And with every forceful thrust, Tate shouted out for more.
He loved being taken like this.
Loved the man doing the taking.
And he fucking loved that Logan understood everything about him and loved every part of it.
Logan was his person. Just as he was his.
And as they both came hard in the heat of the afternoon, Tate had never been more content in his life.
Chapter Twenty-Five
LATER THAT NIGHT, after they’d showered and eaten, Logan headed into the living room with a bottle of wine and two glasses to see that Tate had opened up the glass sliding doors that led out onto the balcony.
If the day had been beautiful, then the night was magnificent. With nobody even remotely close to their cabin, one of the things that made this getaway perfect was how quiet it was. In the evenings, especially. There was no hustle and bustle of the city, and when you were constantly surrounded by that, it was nice to just turn it off and have a change of pace.
Logan also loved how they didn’t have a TV or computers up there—unless they chose to bring a laptop. He’d offered to get both when they started coming up there more often, but Tate had been in total agreement that this was the one place they should just unplug and be together, and Logan loved the nights in this cabin with no one but the two of them for miles.
After pouring them each a glass of Merlot, Logan placed the bottle on the side table by the end of the couch and walked to where Tate was standing out on the balcony.
After his shower, Tate had pulled on a pair of loose linen lounge pants and nothing else, while he’d gone for his grey fleece cut-off sweats and a white tee. When Tate turned to see him standing there, he flashed that pearly grin Logan loved so much and then reached for the glass he offered.
“It’s a beautiful night,” Tate said, leaning over to rest his forearms on the railing.
“It is,” Logan agreed, and took a sip of his wine. Then he mirrored Tate’s pose, standing close enough that he could feel the heat emanating from his body. “I love it here.”