by Ella Frank
“Ah! Found it.”
He stood up and raised the bowl, triumphant, and Tate smiled.
“What?”
“You’re kind of cute when you’re being domestic. Who knew?”
The pan clanged down onto the counter and Logan placed his hands on the edge of the granite. “Did you just call me cute?”
Tongue-in-cheek, Tate replied, “Maybe. Is that a problem?”
“Yes, that’s a problem,” Logan informed him before he stalked around the counter.
Tate watched the way his fingers trailed over the surface. Then he raised his eyes and swiveled on the stool so Logan could step in between his legs.
“Puppies are cute. Babies are cute…” Logan took his hand off the counter to run his fingers over the top of Tate’s thigh and informed him, “I am not cute.”
Tate acted as if the fingers on his leg weren’t affecting him, but when they brushed over the bulge in his jeans, he knew that Logan knew better.
“Do you usually have this kind of reaction to puppies, Tate?”
Tate casually raised the beer from the counter and took a long sip. It was mind-blowing he had that kind of reaction to anything.
“Nope. But now that you mention it, you do have some similar qualities. Puppies also try to hide behind a loud bark.”
Logan’s eyes moved to the bruise on his neck and then back to his. “Are you saying my bark is much worse than my bite?”
Tate’s cock throbbed at the reminder.
“Mhmm.”
“I think you like it when I bite,” Logan guessed with unerring accuracy. Then he ran the tips of his fingers over the purplish mark on his neck. “Maybe you’d like another.”
Yes please, he thought as Logan stared down at him with a look that had Tate reaching for him. He slipped his hands under the hunter-green shirt Logan was wearing and traced his fingers along the top of his shorts.
“You aren’t always cute.”
“No?”
Tate shook his head and slid off the stool, coming to his feet. He looked Logan in the eye and admitted, “No. Most of the time you’re incredibly intimidating.”
He could tell his words blindsided Logan because he stopped what he was doing and took a step back. Before he was out of reach though, Tate hooked his finger into his shorts and drew him back.
“Where you going?”
“Tate…” he muttered softly.
Tate ran his hand up to Logan’s neck and cupped the back of it, bringing his face close enough that their noses touched. “Yes?”
“I…”
Now this is a first. Logan’s at a loss for words.
Tate ran his fingers through Logan’s hair and kissed the corner of his mouth. “What? Tell me.”
Logan’s arms encircled his waist and pulled him in until he had both arms banded around him. Tate wrapped his arms around Logan’s neck and held on.
How is this the first time we’ve shared a simple hug?
But there was nothing simple about it.
He nuzzled his face into Logan’s neck and pressed his lips there in a soft kiss, and Logan’s arms tightened.
“I don’t ever want to intimidate you. Not ever.”
The way Logan said it, and the way he gripped him as though he were an anchor, led Tate to believe that there was much more being said here—more than the two of them in the room.
He pulled away slightly and studied the serious expression now reflected on Logan’s face.
“Hey. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
“It’s fine,” Logan said as he rubbed a hand over his face. He stepped away and made a move to walk back into the kitchen, but Tate grabbed his arm.
“It’s not fine.” He stubbornly faced off with Logan, and then dropped his arm. “I just want to understand.”
He heard Logan sigh and then say, “You will. Just let me finish this so we can eat tonight, okay?”
Tate nodded, but could tell Logan was shaken.
He wanted to know what was going on there. He rarely saw Logan rattled, but as he picked up the pan and turned his back on him, Tate knew that, in his own way, Logan was hiding.
Tate understood that feeling, so he would give him what he needed and be there when he was ready, just as he had been for him.
21.
Logan heard the door behind him shut and let out a sigh of relief.
Tate had given him some room, a second to breathe on his own, and in that moment, he couldn’t have loved him more.
Yes, I love him. Recklessly and without caution.
He was all in, and he wanted Tate more than his next breath.
He reached for the salt and, seeing the way his hand shook, clenched his fist. There was no way he was going to let that asshole fuck this up for him all these years later. Not with Tate.
He finished up the steaks, placed them back in the fridge to soak, and suddenly felt the need to shower. He’d taken one earlier this morning, but now he just felt dirty.
Thinking about his past did that to him, and he wondered if Tate would want him after everything he had to say. He hoped so, because he honestly couldn’t imagine his life without him.
Walking down to his bedroom, he removed his shirt and shorts and then wandered into the large bathroom to step in the shower. Turning on the spray, he sighed as the warm water hit him and he stuck his head under.
Yes. This is what I need.
If he could cleanse his mind, maybe he could then try and unburden his soul. Shifting so his back was under the faucet, he ran his hands up into his hair and closed his eyes.
He wanted to talk to Tate about this past week. Ask if he’d tried to get in touch with his parents, but instead, he was standing in the shower, shaking like a lost fucking cause.
For the first time in years, he really hated his inability to move forward and deal with the past, and he hated that Chris was still winning.
He tipped his head back under the water and tried to let the thoughts be washed from his mind. Maybe, if he was lucky, they’d get chased down the drain, never to be seen again. It wasn’t until he heard the shower door open that he wiped a hand over his face and saw Tate step inside, gloriously naked.
He was about to speak when Tate reached out and placed a finger against his lips.
“Shh…”
Logan licked the water off his top lip, and when his tongue touched Tate’s finger, he shook his head. “I don’t want silence ever again. Not with you.”
“What do you want?” Tate whispered over the running water. “Be honest.”
When he stepped closer and cupped either side of his neck, Logan’s heart ached as it pounded in his chest. Then he raised his hands to circle Tate’s wrists.
“I want to know where you are when you aren’t with me, and I’ll wish I’m there.”
Can’t get more honest than that.
He waited to see if Tate would go running, but instead, he licked the condensation from his lips and started to walk him backwards until his ass and shoulder blades were up against the glass wall of the shower.
Logan released his hold on Tate’s wrists and reached for his hips when he shook his head and gave him a cheeky grin.
“Put your hands on the glass, Mr. Mitchell.”
Fuck.
The order, the name—Tate was in full take mode, and Logan was ready.
He swallowed and flattened his palms on the glass by either side of his legs just as he’d been told.
“Very good,” Tate praised. “Now, about what you said. How about we make it a rule in this new rule book of ours? I’ll tell you where I am if you show me the same courtesy. I hated not knowing.”
Logan felt a little less idiotic after that confession and felt his lips twitch. “Yeah?”
Tate pressed his wet mouth to his and smiled against his lips. “Yeah.”
Logan almost whimpered as Tate sank his teeth into his bottom lip just the way he liked it.
“You don’t get it, do you? It wasn’t that I didn’t want
you,” Tate confessed. “It was because I wanted you so much. I needed space to be able to think. Because around you, all I want to do is fall without thought.”
Before Logan could speak and tell him he felt the same, Tate took his lips in a kiss that just about blew the top of his fucking head off.
Jesus, Tate could kiss. He dove in and rubbed his tongue over the top of his, and Logan groaned when their bodies finally met. It had been way too long since he’d had Tate in front of him like this, and not touching him was going to be a fucking challenge.
Logan pushed his head forward, wanting more, but Tate pulled away just enough to inform him, “This time I’ve thought it all through, and I’m exactly where I want to be.”
The water pounded straight down the drain and steamed up the stall as Logan stood against the wall and gave himself over—which was exactly Tate’s goal.
He trailed his mouth down his neck and circled his nipple with his finger.
Tate then raised his eyes, and Logan almost lost the ability to stand upright when he licked his shiny lips and continued to draw a line down the center of his body until he was fingering the trimmed hair at the root of his cock.
“I wanted to touch you so bad when you sent me that photo this morning.”
Logan swallowed as his eyes closed against the pleasure of Tate circling him with his fist. “Yes,” he hissed out as Tate’s warm breath floated over his lips.
“But you know what I wanted more?”
“Tell me,” he demanded, hoping for—
“I wanted to taste you.”
Exactly that.
Logan grit his teeth as Tate ran his fist up his turgid length.
“This,” Tate told him, swiping his thumb over the head of his cock, “was all shiny and wet, and I wanted to lick it clean. I’ve become hooked on everything when it comes to you. Everything, Logan.”
Logan could see his chest rising and falling as he watched Tate lower down in front of him to his knees.
Oh, fuck yes. Please. Please do it. And he did.
Tate opened his mouth, took him between his lips, and sucked the tip of his cock. Logan felt his knees tremble and thought they were close to buckling, but he was determined to stay on his feet if it fucking killed him.
He pressed his fingers hard against the glass wall and thanked God no one else was in the house, because if they walked in, they’d get one hell of a view.
His ass pressed against the glass. Tate kneeling at his feet.
He looked down to Tate, who was running his tongue from the root of his shaft to the tip, and let out a long throaty sound as he lost the battle to keep his hands in place.
One of them found Tate’s hair, and he saw a small grin curve his mouth.
“Logan?” Tate asked.
Logan said nothing, just peered down at him.
“Give it to me this time. Don’t hold back. Let me have all of you.”
Logan closed his eyes and reminded himself to breathe.
Breathe and give him what he wants. He’s right there asking for you. So reach out and fucking take him.
Logan raised his other hand to Tate’s head and jutted his hips forward as he directed that sinful mouth over his cock. He bit back a curse at the euphoric feeling of making Tate suck him and enjoyed the blissful slide into ecstasy.
He held Tate’s head in place and began to move his hips, rolling them forward and pushing between those clever and wet lips. As they sucked on him, Logan continued to watch himself time and time again disappear inside Tate’s mouth.
He drew his fingers down Tate’s cheek, and when his eyes opened and looked up at him, Logan felt practically paralyzed from the adoration he could see there. He stumbled slightly and once again found his backside against the glass as Tate got up onto his knees to take him deeper.
How he’d gotten so damn lucky, he had no idea, but if it took slicing open his wounds to keep Tate, then he was willing to rip them open and bleed all over himself.
* * *
Tate was so incredibly turned on he wanted to reach down and jack himself off, but that wasn’t the purpose or goal here—giving Logan his undivided attention was.
He’d left him in the kitchen to finish up getting things ready for dinner, but when he hadn’t joined him out on the porch, Tate had gone searching.
When he’d heard the shower in the master bedroom running, he’d stepped inside to see a bed the same size as the one he’d slept in, all neatly made with Logan’s clothes folded on the end.
He hadn’t gone into the bathroom with the intention of joining Logan, but maybe cornering him and making him talk. However, the second he’d stepped inside the steamy room and saw the shower, his mouth had fallen open. There, in the center of the bathroom, was a rain showerhead hanging down over a large open-roof shower made completely out of glass, and Logan was visible from every angle.
Tate’s intentions had taken a dramatic turn at that point, and now, as he placed his palms on Logan’s spread thighs and opened his mouth, he was more than happy with the way things had turned out.
Positioned at Logan’s feet, he waited for him to slide back inside along his tongue, and when he did, Tate tightened his lips around his thick length. The, “Ahh,” that hit his ears over the fall of water made him feel like the most powerful person on the planet, and the fingers that twisted in his hair made his own cock ache.
He hadn’t been lying. He loved Logan’s hands in his hair. And right now, he was using them to control what pace he wanted to fuck his mouth with.
The salty drops of pre-come coating his tongue had him eager for more, and at the same time, he was aware that he’d never wanted the taste of someone as much as he did Logan.
When did I get so greedy?
He felt insatiable, as if he couldn’t get enough—couldn’t get close enough.
“Fuck,” he heard above him, and Logan pulled him forward as he jammed his hips out, pushing deeper—giving it to him the way he’d asked. Not holding back.
Yes, Tate thought, on my tongue. I want to taste you on my tongue.
The way Logan was moving against him was so fucking hot there was no way he could stop his own climax from building inside of him. Tate knew it wouldn’t be long before he exploded, and he was ready.
Ready to release everything that Logan had built in him.
“So fucking close, Tate. I’m so close...”
Tate grabbed his own cock and started stroking. He closed his eyes and relaxed his jaw while Logan’s fingers clenched and he used him as he never had before.
Gone was the careful, tentative man who’d taught him what to do, and in his place was a man out of control—a man taking his pleasure.
A man he loved.
Tate smoothed his other hand over Logan’s thigh and up to cradle his balls before he pushed a finger back between his cheeks. The slight stimulation was all that was needed.
Logan exploded on his tongue with a shout so loud that Tate’s ears rang, and as he swallowed the creamy fluid down, he gave several hard pulls of his own flesh and felt his orgasm hit. Then he shot his load all over the shower floor.
Tate looked up to where Logan had slumped back against the glass and closed his eyes. He drew his mouth off him, and when he felt the fingers in his hair loosen and stroke the back of his head, he didn’t get up. He rested on his heels, placed his cheek against Logan’s thigh, and once again stared up at him.
This time when Logan glanced down, his eyes seemed to be thanking him, but no words were exchanged. Instead, Tate gave a silent wink, leaned in, and kissed his thigh. No words were needed.
22.
Dinner went by quickly enough, and once they were done, they ended up in the living room.
It’s so unusual to be sharing this space with someone, Logan thought as he sat in his favored recliner and watched Tate grab a cushion off the couch so he could lie on the floor.
“You can lie up there, you know.”
Tate shook his head and leaned the
cushion back against the leather. “No way. And this rug is comfy anyway.”
Logan picked up the wine he’d poured and looked down at Tate, who was laid out on his sheepskin rug. “Okay. But just know, when your ass goes numb, you’re more than welcome to move it to the soft Italian leather couch.”
“Are you showing off or just concerned for the welfare of my ass?”
“If I were concerned for its welfare, I wouldn’t be thinking about all the ways I’m going to devour it later,” he told him with a wink.
Tate stretched his arms over his head, making the red T-shirt he was wearing ride up. “So sure of yourself.”
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”
Tate gave him a look so hot it would melt fucking steel. “Not at all. You can have anything you want.”
Logan crossed his legs out in front of himself and took another sip of his drink. “Anything, huh?”
“Within reason, of course.”
“Now I’m trying to think of something that would be out of reason,” Logan mused.
“Oh, I’m sure you could come up with something, and even then, you’d dress it up in a way that would probably make me want it.”
“Now what makes you say that?”
“Did you forget how we met?”
Swallowing another sip of wine, Logan lowered his arm to the side of the chair. “I remember everything from the first time I saw you.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. You tried to hook me up with a woman,” Logan reminded him dryly.
Tate started laughing then asked, “Well, how was I supposed to know that you—”
“Were imagining you kneeling at my feet in your work clothes?” Logan shrugged. “You weren’t—until I told you.”
Tate calmed and then crossed his legs at the ankles. “Yeah. I’m really not sure how I worked that out since you’re so subtle and all.”
“Aren’t you hilarious tonight.”
“I’m relaxed. Probably for the first time in two weeks. Ever since my sis—Jill—found us, I’ve been a fucking basket case. Then Sunday happened and everything that came after that.”
Logan shared the sentiment, but there were still things they needed to discuss. “About that…”
