by Trina Lane
Clay flipped channels when the intellectuals started posturing about the symbolism behind the images and all that jazz. The colourful images on the flat screen flew by, his mind unable to settle on something to watch. He knew it was because he was only killing time until Logan came home. Today had been Clay’s day off, but Logan was scheduled to work ‘til eight that night.
After Jack had come through on his promise and put in a good word with the white shirts, Logan had been offered a position at HQ in the crime lab. He’d been working for four months now, and each day, Clay saw more and more of the old Logan shining through the smoky blue eyes he loved. He heard it in the rich laugh that often echoed in the apartment. Logan hadn’t had a flashback in almost three months, the longest period yet. Maybe, just maybe the demons were being put to rest.
Clay jumped as the front door banged open. He quickly reached for his sidearm hidden inside the built-in compartment of the ottoman and spun around to face the intruder. His jaw dropped when he spotted Logan just inside the door.
“Jesus, fuck, Logan! I could have shot you!”
Logan slammed the door shut and stormed past Clay into the spare bedroom. No words of greeting came from Logan’s lips. He hadn’t even looked Clay in the eyes. The door to the spare room closed with a heavy thud. Clay and Logan had transformed the space from the bedroom Logan formally occupied to a home gym over the winter.
Something must have happened at work for Logan to be so agitated. Clay let him burn off some steam before approaching the bear in his cave. When Logan got in these moods, the best thing was to give him some time to cool off before confronting the issue. The issue could be one of many. Had Logan had another panic attack or flashback and was angry at the loss of control? Clay didn’t think he’d had a session with Matt that day. Even if Logan had met Matt, all the psychiatrist would be able to tell Clay was that anything Matt and Logan had discussed in session was doctor/patient confidentiality. Of course, it was always possible Logan had just had a shitty day at work.
Clay paced for another thirty minutes. Finally, he’d had enough of the silent treatment. He marched over to the closed door and opened it without knocking. He eyes bugged out at the sight that greeted him.
Logan worked at the bench press. His legs straddled the padded bench. His bare, sweaty chest expanded as he heaved the bar full of weights above his head over and over. Logan wore nothing except a pair of red gym shorts and fingerless leather gloves. Clay knew Logan wore an athletic support beneath the skimpy shorts, but the thin material left little to the imagination.
Logan’s musky scent filled the air and sent Clay into full mating mode. His fingers tingled with the need to touch all the glorious skin bare before him, and he wanted to tongue the stiff nipples peaked with the adrenaline and endorphins coursing through Logan’s body as a result of his workout. However, before they could give into their carnal desires, Clay had to find out what had set Logan off earlier.
Clay entered the room and moved over to the equipment. He straddled Logan’s hips and lifted the bar from his lover’s grasp then placed it in the supports. Logan made a move to push Clay back, but Clay sat, pinning Logan to the bench. He made sure to grind down on Logan’s trapped cock as he settled into a comfortable position. Logan stared at him with one eyebrow raised but remained in a prone position on the bench.
“’Fess up,” Clay said.
Logan crossed his arms and continued to stare at him. Clay realised that Logan didn’t have his processors on and felt like slapping himself in the forehead. He knew Logan always took them off when working out because of the sweat.
He pointed down at Logan, knowing the man could read his lips. “Stay.”
Scanning the room for the devices, he saw them perched in the case sitting on the dresser where they kept their workout gear and extra towels. He snagged them and went back to the bench press. Clay placed the processors behind Logan’s ears, slid the magnets over his skull ‘til they secured to the implants and switched on the devices. When he was finished, he placed a soft kiss on Logan’s pursed lips.
“Now speak.”
“What am I? A damn dog? Stay. Speak. What’s next roll over?”
Clay licked his lips and slowly let his eyes rove over Logan’s sculpted, tantalising body. When he once again met Logan’s eyes, he saw the mirroring flare of desire within their blue depths. “We’ll get to that. For now, why don’t you tell me what has you so worked up?”
Logan rocked himself up into a sitting position. “It’s just stuff at work. Nothing major.”
Clay straddled the bench again. He sat, facing Logan. “Logan, you can talk to me. You know that. It doesn’t matter if it’s big or small. I’ll listen.”
Logan leant in and placed a quick kiss on Clay’s lips. “I know you will, baby. Sometimes, I’m afraid that I take advantage of that too often. You know I’m willing to be a sounding board for you, too, right? If you need to get something off your chest or talk about something bothering you on a case, I’d listen, you know?”
“Of course, you would. I never doubted that. Now stop procrastinating.”
Logan sighed and looked down at the padded vinyl seat. “Something happened in the lab today. I was logging in a Beretta M9A1 that was seized on a drug raid. The CSIs had reason to suspect that the weapon might have been used in a murder earlier in the week. So I was to test fire the weapon and do a striations match to the bullet collected from the victim. I stood at the microscope when some detective came up behind me. He started talking before getting my attention, and when I turned around to ask him to repeat, he got all indignant and started talking shit.”
“What kind of shit?”
“Oh you know… ‘Deaf and dumb, Callen? A fifth grader watching crime shows can answer my questions better than you. You couldn’t even get a job on your own. Had to ask that cock bandit you live with to set you up, didn’t you?’”
“Who was it?” Clay growled.
“Doesn’t matter. One of the other investigators overheard him, and the situation was dealt with. He’s on administrative leave, but you know—”
“Honey, listen to me. You’re a fantastic technician. You know weapons and their signature characteristics better than anyone. For you, calculating trajectories is like adding one plus one, whereas the rest of us get hives at the thought. I might not work in the same department as you, but don’t think I don’t know just how much respect you’ve gained in the few months since you joined the force. My captain is convinced that the sun shines out your ass. Hell, every time he sees me he asks about you. I’m beginning to feel a little inadequate,” Clay finished, smiling.
“I appreciate the pep talk, but we both know there are times I still miss things.”
“Well yeah, but they’re getting fewer and farther between. The implants were not a cure, Logan, and everyone with a modicum of intelligence recognises that. I sense something else is going on here. This isn’t just about the asshole detective.”
Logan shrugged
Clay slid forward on the seat and draped his legs over Logan’s thighs. His arms encircled Logan’s waist, and his lips nuzzled against Logan’s. It took a few moments but Logan began to respond to Clay’s kisses. Their heads tilted until lips met smoothly. Clay traced his tongue along the bottom edge of Logan’s lower lip, seeking entry. He flicked the tip over the seam of Logan’s lips, and they parted in welcome. He slowly fed his tongue into Logan’s mouth, moaning at the taste within.
Logan’s hands speared through his hair and held him still as the kiss deepened. Clay’s cock jumped in his cargo shorts, filling with blood as it did every time Logan was near. Clay was so addicted to his lover that Logan didn’t even have to touch him. Simply being near the man sent him into heat.
Clay’s hand dropped to the waistband of Logan’s shorts. His fingers burrowed beneath the elastic and encountered the pouch of Logan’s jockstrap bulging with his arousal. Clay’s hand drifted lower to cup the full balls snug inside the support. Logan
moaned, and his hands tightened in Clay’s hair.
Before things could get completely out of control, Clay pushed Logan away. He was met by lust filled questioning eyes.
“Wait…wait…we were talking.”
Logan tried to gather Clay back into his body. “Talk later; fuck now.”
Clay’s eyes nearly rolled back when Logan grabbed his crotch and massaged the hard cock beneath his shorts. He wanted Logan so bad. At the moment, he couldn’t decided if he wanted to lie back on the bench and spread his legs like a proper slut should or strip the little red shorts from Logan’s body and bend him over the bench, while still wearing the jock. He could picture it perfectly. Logan’s taut ass lifted up in the air, open and framed perfectly for his pleasure. Clay could shove his cock deep and thrust into the tight heat until they both found blissful oblivion.
No! Fucking would wait. He wanted to get the bottom of what was really bothering Logan. Avoidance would not solve the problem. No matter how pleasurable it may be.
“No, Logan. Tell me it all, and then I promise I’ll ream you so good you’ll never look at this bench the same way again. Every time you come in here, you’ll picture yourself bent over and spread open. Your ass raised, begging for my cock. Maybe I’ll slap it a few times, get it good and pink. Warm that soft skin up ‘til it turns a pretty little rose colour, and then…oh Logan…then we’ll…”
Logan panted. “We’ll what, Clay? Please tell me. I wanna hear it.”
“You finish, Logan, and I’ll do one better. I’ll show you.”
“Bastard, that’s blackmail.”
Clay smiled, and Logan growled.
Logan shoved Clay away from him and got off the bench. He paced the length of the room a couple of times. His cock pulsed with need, and Clay withheld his release until Logan finished confessing his soul.
He could just leave, get in the shower and deal with the problem at hand so to speak. However, he knew that would hurt Clay’s feelings. He knew his lover was only trying to help, even if his methods were a bit sadistic. When he calmed down enough so that his cock didn’t feel as if it would explode at the next touch, he stopped pacing. Logan stood in the centre of the room, legs braced apart, arms crossed as he’d seen his DI do hundreds of times at boot camp.
“They need me to testify on the Markham case on Friday. I have to go up on the stand and answer questions about my test procedures and defend the conclusions.”
“And you’re worried because?”
“What if I can’t hear the defence attorney? What if he asks me questions with his back turned or tries to trick me. Everyone at HQ knows about my hearing, and generally, they’re all great about getting my attention and making sure they face me. But this guy? I don’t know him. I don’t know his voice. I don’t know his mannerisms. All I do know is that he’s known for exploiting every little loophole in the system, every ‘i’ not dotted every ‘t’ not crossed to get his clients off. I don’t want to be the weak link that lets the murderer of a sixteen-year-old girl back on the streets.”
Clay stood and walked over to Logan. He rubbed the stiff arms and loosened the clenched fists. “You’re not alone in that courtroom, Logan. The prosecutor won’t let him take advantage of you. You stood in dusty streets under desert sun to face down insurgents carrying automatic weapons, intent on killing you with their next shot. I know you can handle one slimy lawyer in a city courtroom. I have faith in you. The force has faith in you, too, otherwise they wouldn’t have given you the opportunity to work this case.”
Logan heard the words and saw the truth of them in Clay’s eyes, the grey mimicking hardened steel with conviction. Clay had faith in him; Clay trusted him. It wouldn’t stop the butterflies, but it did help ease the panic before it could consume him. The CSIs had all told him it would be fine. His methods had been accurate; his conclusion solidly based on the evidence. He was only one small part of the investigation. Other technicians would give testimony on trace evidence and DNA. He could do this. He had the prosecutor, his team and most importantly Clay in his corner. He might ask Matt about it in their session tomorrow. Maybe he would have some tips or techniques. That was tomorrow though. Tonight, he would make Clay pony up.
Logan took a step back and pushed his gym shorts down to his ankles. He kicked off his sneakers and held out his arms. His thumbs tucked into the wide waistband of his jockstrap.
“Stop! Leave that on,” Clay commanded.
Logan held his breath as Clay walked around him slowly. Clay’s fingers skimmed over the surface of his skin. Traces of heat lingered from the simple touch, and shivers rippled down his spine when Clay’s tongue licked the back of his neck. He leaned on his heels, seeking a greater touch, only to jump forward as Clay’s hand met the fleshy curve of his butt exposed by the straps of his athletic support. The sharp sting quickly faded to a low throb beneath his skin. Clay forced his wrists behind his back and kicked his feet apart as he would when arresting someone.
Hmm, too bad Clay doesn’t have his handcuffs. That could be fun.
“You keep your arms there.”
Logan gripped one hand around the wrist of the other arm to keep his position steady.
Clay stood behind Logan and placed his lips at the microphone of the speech processor behind Logan’s right ear. “You were bad, Logan. Do you know what you did wrong?”
“I…I…” Logan swallowed. What had he done? What was Clay looking for? He thought about when he’d first come home. “I slammed the front door open and scared you into grabbing your gun?”
“Yes, that was very naughty. I could have hurt you. What else did you do, Logan?”
Logan racked his brain for more indictments. “I didn’t kiss you hello?”
Clay completed the circle around Logan’s body. “And?”
“Umm…” He stared into Clay’s eyes. The steel had turned molten, and Clay’s nostrils flared as his head tilted and his nose slid down Logan’s neck. Logan was having difficulty concentrating. Clay’s deep, commanding voice excited the blood coursing through Logan’s body. His hard cock was trapped within the pouch of his jock, and he had no way to relieve the pressure. He was confined and constrained by a device designed by evil individuals. The support and security it provided while working out had turned into a tortuous prison. The pain caused a degree of panic, and he pleaded with Clay for freedom with his eyes. He whimpered as Clay’s finger caressed his trapped erection.
“Logan? Only the truth can set you free.”
“I…um…I…” Shit what else! Oh yeah. “I gave you lip when you tried to help me?” Please let that be it, please.
Clay reached inside and lifted Logan’s bent cock so it stood straight against his stomach. “Very good.”
Oh thank you, God! It was so much better—even if he looked a little ridiculous with the head of his cock sticking out of the top of waistband as if it were a missile preparing to launch.
“Now, I believe those bad behaviours of yours call for some punishment. You can’t expect to act that way and not pay the price, now can you?”
“No.”
“No, what?”
Clay’s voice held the same steal of every commanding officer Logan had ever served under. He’d never confessed to Clay about his occasional fantasies of literately serving under an officer, but it seems once again Clay had tapped directly into Logan’s desires to give him what he needed.
“No, Sir.”
“That’s better.”
Logan compliantly followed Clay when the man pulled him back to the bench press by his waistband. He tensed, waiting for the snap of the elastic against his hypersensitive skin, but released a long breath when Clay gently let the material rest without pain. Clay adjusted the angle of the bench in a decline position.
“Step around the rear of the frame and lay on the bench Logan. Let your arms hang over the leg support and grip the bar with both hands.”
He did as told, placing his body at an upward forty-five degree angle. He braced his
legs on either side of the bench to keep his balance and open his body for Clay’s ministrations. He looked over his shoulder, trying to see what Clay was up to, but couldn’t see him. However, he refused to break position to get a better look. He rested his head on the end of the bench. His breathing slowed, even as his blood accelerated through his veins. A soft strip of material appeared in front of him and covered his eyes. The darkness only heightened the rest of his senses.
“Okay, love?” Clay whispered.
Logan eagerly nodded his head. They were playing, but Clay always took care of him. Always made sure he felt safe.
“Now about this punishment. I believe ten swats should suffice.”
Logan braced for the first smack but was startled when, instead of the sharp crack of Clay’s palm, he instead felt a soft caress on both cheeks of his exposed rear. He moaned and arched back into the touch. A soft kiss landed on the back of his neck and one long finger traced the ridges of his spine, continuing down between the cleft of his ass. The tip grazed his entrance, and Logan sought more only to jerk forward, yelping, as pain blossomed with the first spank from Clay’s hand. He imagined the bright pink shape of Clay’s hand on his skin and used the image to feed his desire. Another smack landed on the opposite side, followed by a kiss to the small of his back. The contrary sensations kept him from become acquiescent. Each smack on his skin increased his craving. His moans echoed in the room. His cock leaked onto the vinyl of the seat, as he pressed against the support. His mind cleared of all the clutter, as he let Clay take him away.
“How many is that, Logan?”
“Um…”
Another hard smack, the strongest yet, made him cry out.
“Logan! How many?”
Shit! He was supposed to be counting? “Five?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Sir. Five Sir.”
His hands gripped the bar of the bench frame. His ass throbbed and his cock was the hardest it had ever been, partially trapped within the confines of his jock. The material riding against the sensitive flesh was part agony, part bliss.