He knew Andrew wasn’t asleep.
There was tension in the air, so thick he could almost taste it.
Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore.
He rolled onto his side and pressed his chest against Andrew’s back.
Andrew let out a sigh that seemed both relieved and annoyed. “Fuck off.”
Logan wrapped an arm around Andrew’s waist and pressed them flush against each other, his erection nestling between Andrew’s cheeks. “Stop making it complicated,” he said, nipping at Andrew’s nape. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“But—”
“Shut up and jerk off. You know you want to.”
After a long moment, he heard the telltale sound of flesh moving against flesh.
Burying his face against Andrew’s nape, Logan closed his eyes and sought his own release.
It really meant nothing. Just two touch-starved, lonely humans seeking relief and comfort. Nothing more.
But fuck, touching Andrew was oddly addictive. Logan hadn’t realized how much he’d missed having a warm, naked body in his arms. An orgasm was kind of secondary to the pleasure derived from physical contact.
He had intended to just grind against Andrew’s ass while the other guy jerked off, but he felt greedy now. He wanted more. His hands started wandering, stroking Andrew’s chest and stomach, kneading his pecs and brushing his nipples.
“Stop that,” Andrew murmured weakly, but he didn’t attempt to pull away and didn’t stop stroking his own cock.
Logan ignored him, his face buried in Andrew’s nape as his hand rubbed and tweaked those pretty nipples. Fuck, he wished he could suck on them.
He pinched the left nipple and Andrew whined, shuddering against him. Logan slid his hand lower, over Andrew’s trembling stomach, and then lower, until his hand bumped against Andrew’s.
The guy tensed up.
After a long beat, Andrew’s hand dropped.
Logan wrapped his hand around the stiff cock.
Andrew let out a shaky breath. “I’m not gay,” he said, haltingly.
Logan just scoffed. Andrew’s cock was a nice size, a little shorter and slimmer than his own, and it was already leaking pre-come as Logan started stroking it.
“I’m not gay,” Andrew said again, but his words came out more like a moan.
“I’m not hearing a no,” Logan said, jacking him off.
“As if a no would stop you.”
“You won’t find out unless you try it,” Logan said dryly, but he didn’t press. He knew Andrew felt better about this if he could pretend that he was being forced. Logan should have probably been more bothered by it, but he wasn’t. Had he cared for Andrew or—God forbid—actually wanted a relationship with him, this would have been offensive as fuck. But as things stood, Andrew continuing being a bigoted little shit practically guaranteed that Logan wouldn’t get attached. This meant nothing. Just a base need that didn’t mean anything.
So he stroked Andrew’s cock, deriving a sick sort of pleasure from every moan that bigoted straight guy let out as a “homo” jacked him off.
Andrew clearly was trying to be quiet, trying to swallow his noises, but soon enough, he couldn’t stop his moans from slipping out of his mouth. His hips started moving too, fucking into Logan’s fist helplessly until Andrew was a moaning, trembling mess.
“No—” Andrew cried out as Logan took his hand away.
“Turn around.”
Andrew did as he was told, gasping.
“Touch my cock,” Logan said.
“I won’t.”
Chuckling, Logan took Andrew’s hand and wrapped it around his aching cock. “Jack it off.”
“I’m not gay.”
“Jack it off. Or I won’t touch yours.”
“I hate you,” Andrew said, but his hand finally moved, a little hesitant at first. “This is disgusting.”
“Shut up, or I’ll shut you up with my cock.”
That shut Andrew up.
“But maybe you’ll like it,” Logan said, pressing their foreheads together. He resumed stroking Andrew’s cock. “Maybe that’s what you actually want: a fat cock in your mouth—”
“Fuck off,” Andrew said breathlessly, squeezing Logan’s cock tighter and fucking into Logan’s fist. “I’m not a—”
“Faggot? You have a cock in your hand, straight guy.” Logan sucked on his jawline. “And you like it.”
“No—” The word turned into a long moan as Andrew came into Logan’s hand. “Oh.”
Logan pushed Andrew’s boneless body onto his back.
“My turn,” he said, stroking his own cock with Andrew’s come, getting it nice and slick.
The guy under him seemed barely conscious and allowed Logan to arrange his limbs the way he wanted them. Fuck, something about it went straight to Logan’s cock. Having this confrontational, opinionated asshole so pliant and satisfied in his arms was beyond arousing. Logan put his slick cock between Andrew’s thighs, squeezed them together, and then fucked them, hard and fast, until he saw stars.
He collapsed on top of Andrew, burying his face in his neck. He breathed, his body still shuddering with the afterglow.
He felt better than he had in months.
Chapter 9
The rain finally stopped on their eleventh day in the shelter.
It was too little, too late, but Andrew still felt relieved.
The enforced closeness had fucked everything up, not allowing him to put some much-needed distance between them—not allowing him to escape. A week. He’d had to put up with Logan groping and molesting him every night for a week, and Andrew’s stupid, traitorous body had betrayed him every time—to Logan’s amusement.
God, Andrew hated him.
He was so glad the rain had ended. They wouldn’t have to live on top of each other anymore. The madness was finally over.
But as Andrew stretched out on his blanket under the clear starry sky, his heart was pounding and his skin was prickling with anxiety. He felt naked, even though he was wearing a t-shirt for once. He couldn’t make himself relax, tensing up at every sound. He couldn’t relax enough to sleep.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he focused on the sound of the ocean beating gently against the shore. It should have been calming. Soothing. But all it did was remind him of how small and insignificant he was compared to Mother Nature, how far from civilization they were.
He hugged himself, feeling illogically cold. He wondered if they held a funeral for him already. Probably.
He wondered who’d even come to his funeral.
He had to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. It didn’t matter. Why did he care if people didn’t come to his funeral? Had he been truly dead, he wouldn’t have cared. Dead people didn’t care about anything. Vivian was likely mourned by hundreds of people—everyone loved her—but it was a small comfort when she was dead. No one likely gave a fuck if Andrew was dead or alive, but so what? He didn’t want people to mourn him. He didn’t need people, period. He’d only ever needed Vivian, and now she was gone. His wife, his best friend, and his beloved. What did it matter if people he didn’t give a fuck about didn’t give a fuck about his death?
But no matter what he told himself, the cold, lonely feeling in the pit of his stomach didn’t go anywhere. He felt achingly alone, and for the first time in years, he hated the feeling, couldn’t stand it, felt like he was choking on it. It had been easy to be a loner when he still had a loving, supportive wife. Now he felt… He felt anchorless. Adrift. And any other word that meant miserable.
He wanted arms around him. He wanted not to be alone.
He wanted to feel wanted.
Andrew opened his eyes.
Then, he got to his feet and walked toward the other man’s bedroll, his bare feet silent on the sand.
He looked down at Logan. The moonlight was bright enough to see that Logan’s eyes were open. He was gazing up at Andrew, his expression impossible to read.
Andrew wet h
is dry lips, his heart pounding against his ribcage. He pulled his t-shirt off. Then he hooked his thumbs on the waistband of his shorts and dragged them down. He stepped out of them, his eyes still locked with Logan’s.
For a long moment, there was only silence as they stared at each other.
Then Logan pushed his own boxers down and pulled out his half-hard cock. It seemed huge in the moonlight. Obscene. “Get on your knees.”
Andrew’s knees suddenly felt weak.
He dropped to one knee, then the other, until he was settled between Logan’s thighs.
Logan’s hand buried in Andrew’s overgrown hair and pulled him down. “Suck me off,” he said, his voice low and hoarse.
Andrew closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m not sucking your dick. I’m not gay.”
Logan made a frustrated sound. “Then what the hell are you—”
“I’m not sucking your cock. Force me.”
Logan’s hand went very still.
Andrew was glad Logan couldn’t see that he was blushing.
After a long, tense moment, Logan said, “All right. But you’ll need a safeword.”
Andrew frowned, bewildered. “What for?”
“I’m not forcing myself on you without a safeword, you twisted little fuck,” Logan gritted out. “I need to know when you really mean it if you want me to stop.”
Andrew scoffed. “You didn’t ask for a safeword in the shelter.”
“And it was wrong of me.” Logan sighed. “I mean, I know you well enough by now, and I wouldn’t have actually been that pushy if I wasn’t sure you wanted it, but I could still have misjudged the situation. Non-consent play can be dangerous, you little idiot.”
“Don’t call me an idiot. And I didn’t want it!”
“Besides, this is different from handjobs,” the asshole said, as if Andrew hadn’t said anything. “Pick a safeword. Any word.”
“Fine,” Andrew grumbled unhappily. It wasn’t what he’d wanted. Choosing a safeword would mean he was choosing this—and wasn’t actually being forced. He didn’t like it. But fine. “Funeral.”
“Funeral? Your mind is a strange place.”
Andrew didn’t say anything. He looked down.
At Logan’s cock. It was still hard.
Andrew licked his trembling lips. God, was he really going to allow another man to fuck his mouth? Had he lost his mind? What was he doing? He should leave. He should stop this. All he had to do was say the word.
But he remained silent, staring at the cock in morbid fascination. He’d touched it in the shelter, but he didn’t really have the opportunity to look at it. It was so thick. And long. And hard. He’d made Logan hard. It was weirdly thrilling. Despite Logan’s grumpy attitude, he wanted him. A body didn’t lie.
His hand in Andrew’s hair tightening, Logan yanked him down. “Suck.”
The massive cock pushed into his mouth without any preamble. Andrew choked, his eyes widening.
Logan didn’t give him time to adjust.
He just used him.
He fucked Andrew’s mouth with no consideration for his comfort, hard and fast, as if Andrew’s mouth was just a hole for his cock. It was incredibly degrading, but somehow it was exactly what he needed. It felt good. He didn’t have to think. He was nothing but a wet hole for Logan’s cock.
Warmth spread through Andrew’s body, his blood rushing to his cock. He whimpered around the thick cock in his mouth, choking on it and unable to get enough of this feeling. Logan was grunting above him, thrusting into his mouth as if possessed. “Yes, fuck, take it.” His grip on Andrew’s hair tightening, he held him down, his hips thrusting, and thrusting, and thrusting.
Andrew gagged a little as the cock repeatedly bumped against the back of his throat. It must have felt very good for Logan: he groaned and kept doing it, fucking his throat, no finesse or restraint, just pure animal need. Andrew couldn’t think—it was probably lack of oxygen, but his mind felt hazy and slow. He liked it. It felt good. Like the strangest sort of high. He was wanted. He was wanted so much it made Logan lose control.
He let out a disappointed sigh as Logan’s jizz hit the back of his throat.
Blinking dazedly, Andrew spat out what he couldn’t swallow and dropped his head onto Logan’s stomach. Oh, he felt wonderful. His cock was soft and sensitive in a way that indicated that he must have come, too. He didn’t remember it, but he didn’t care. He felt good. So good. Content.
Logan’s voice snapped him out of it. “We should probably talk about this.”
Andrew scrunched up his nose. “No, we really don’t. There’s nothing to talk about.” Huh. His voice sounded wrecked.
“If you say so.”
“I do say so. Now shut up. You’re ruining the mood.”
“I wasn’t aware there was a mood.”
“There was. It was called blessed silence.”
Logan snorted. “Fine. But we really need to talk about it.”
Andrew ignored him, his eyelids growing heavier by the minute.
It was odd, but now the sound of the ocean beating against the shore didn’t make him feel lonely or small. It seemed like a calming lullaby.
Andrew let it lull him into sleep.
Chapter 10
Sometimes Logan wondered what the hell they were doing.
It didn’t happen all that often. He generally dealt with the issue by not thinking about it. Not thinking about it was surprisingly easy when he had a hot guy sucking his dick whenever he wanted. Or rather, a hot guy letting him use his mouth whenever he wanted. The distinction was very clear—and one Andrew didn’t let him forget about.
They really needed to talk about it. People generally didn’t do that kind of thing without explicitly discussing what each party got from that kind of relationship. Not that it was a relationship. It was… a mutually beneficial arrangement, nothing more.
Logan knew it wasn’t really about sex for Andrew. It wasn’t about sex for him, either. Sex was just a way for them to feel less lonely. A physical affirmation of life and an escape route from it at the same time. A way to feel good, a release of tension. The sex was an escape, like drugs and alcohol. Orgasms were secondary almost to the point of unimportance. Sexual gratification didn’t seem to be the main reason why Andrew liked sucking his cock—and he clearly liked it, no matter how much he liked to pretend that he was being forced.
At first Logan had been a little uneasy about the whole thing, but it was undeniable that the other man enjoyed having his mouth fucked. “Enjoyed” might actually be an understatement. Logan had never met a guy who got off on having his mouth used as much as Andrew did: he could come from it completely untouched. Andrew also liked making him hard. He would sometimes reach out and touch Logan’s cock for no reason and watch him get hard with a fascinated look in his eyes. Logan wasn’t sure why Andrew liked it so much—Andrew’s mind was a weird place and worked in mysterious ways. Logan didn’t try to understand him. He didn’t want to understand him. There was only one step from understanding someone to getting attached to them, and Logan wasn’t doing it. Not with a guy who was a bigoted, repressed mess.
But fuck, Andrew looked so soft after he let Logan use his mouth: all flushed, glassy-eyed, and mellow. It did things to him. Things Logan had to nip in the bud. So he tried not to look at Andrew in those moments—if he did, he wanted to shove the guy under him and kiss him until he forgot his own name.
They didn’t do kisses. Ever.
Anyway, everything was fine—as long as Logan didn’t let himself think about things for more than a few seconds.
The situation was… manageable enough until one day, weeks after they’d started fooling around, everything went downhill.
Logan was looking at the horizon, watching the spectacular sunset, his cock half-hard in the other guy’s mouth. He’d already come less than an hour ago, so the urgency wasn’t there. He just liked keeping his cock in Andrew’s mouth, to use him as a cock-warmer until he started hardening
again. It was a kink he hadn’t even known he had—until Andrew. It also had the benefit of Andrew being quiet and mellow.
Absentmindedly, Logan scratched behind Andrew’s ear.
A low sound, something like a purr, made him freeze.
He looked down at the guy seated on the sand between his legs. Andrew’s eyes were closed, his pretty lips stretched wide by Logan’s cock, an expression of utter contentment and peace on his face.
After a moment, Logan’s hand moved again. Andrew purred like a pleased cat, leaning into his touch, his lips tightening around Logan’s cock—which was now rock hard again.
Fuck.
Logan wrenched his eyes away and started thrusting into that mouth, hard and almost cruel.
It did nothing to erase the image of Andrew’s content, lovely face from his mind.
***
It should have stopped at that. One weird display of inappropriate affection could have been easily written off.
But now Logan found himself unable to stop touching him after and during the blowjobs. Andrew reacted to a gentle touch beautifully: all but purring and leaning into the touch like a touch-starved kitten.
Logan had trouble believing it was Andrew’s normal. It was probably just the isolation getting to him.
It was getting to Logan, too.
The more time passed, the blurrier his self-imposed rules became. What did it matter that Andrew was a bigoted asshole when they were going to be stuck on this island for the rest of their lives? Neither of them was their real self here. The island had changed them both into something else. The real-world Logan normally avoided homophobic, latent homosexuals like the plague. The real-world Andrew would never suck a “homo’s” cock.
Neither of those men existed on the island.
There was only here and now, the slick mouth around his cock and Andrew’s glazed, drunk eyes as he gazed up at Logan as if he were a god.
Just a Bit Wrecked Page 5
