“I want you so fucking bad,” Logan cursed.

Tate raised his hands to Logan’s shirt, and this time, instead of bothering to unbutton it, he tore it apart. As the buttons popped free from the material, he yanked Logan in by the edges of his shirt, so their bodies were back to touching.

“Hope you didn’t want your shirt.”

“Fuck my shirt.”

Tate chuckled, and then he asked seriously, “Logan?”

Logan’s body tensed. “Yes?”

Pushing the white material off Logan’s shoulder, Tate relayed his thoughts clearly. “I want to be inside you, just like last night.” He kissed Logan’s neck, and when he got to his ear, he sucked the lobe into his mouth. He made sure to add, “And I want to hear my name when I make you come.”

* * *

Yes, Logan thought as Tate’s mouth hovered over his ear, whispering the hottest promise he’d ever heard.

Logan hadn’t been lying about how much he wanted Tate. It was insane. Basically, Tate just had to look at him, breathe near him, or be in the same vicinity, and he was ready to go. Usually, Logan could control his body better, but one flirtatious comment or smile from the man currently kissing his way up his neck, and he was useless.

“Feeling possessive?” he goaded, knowing exactly what was riding Tate.

Not one, but two of Logan’s past acquaintances had gotten in Tate’s face today, and Logan knew that tonight was about two things—want and possession. Tate was out to prove something, and who the hell was he to stop him.

As his shirt landed on the floor and Tate’s mouth came back to his, Logan ran his hands through the curls he obsessed over and pushed against the determined man in front of him. When Tate shoved back as though he wasn’t giving up the upper hand, Logan bucked his hips forward, loving the resistance. As two hands moved between them to his belt buckle, Logan lifted his head, and Tate’s tongue licked into his open mouth.

“So sexy, Tate. You’re so fucking sexy.”

Tate’s lips curved. “Where to? Bedroom?”

Logan glanced over to the couch. “No, not close enough. There.”

“Here?” Tate confirmed as he released him and turned to walk over to the black leather couch. When he stopped in front of it, he unfastened the button of his pants, his zipper, and then sat down with his legs spread wide in sexual invitation.

Logan could hardly take his eyes away from him as he kicked off his shoes. He knew what was coming and what he wanted, and it was sitting on his couch, waiting for him to come and take it.

Bending down, Logan removed his socks, and when he straightened, he came eye-to-eye with Tate, who was watching him and stroking himself. With his lowered eyelids and swollen lips, Tate looked like he’d been fucked hard already, and Logan couldn’t wait for that day. He knew that once he got inside Tate, he was going to spend a good portion of his days, weeks, and months getting back in there as often as possible. Until then, he would happily take him the only way he could.

“You want something, Tate?”

Tate looked him over, starting at his bare feet. Unhurriedly, they grazed over his boxers to the trail of hair that pointed down to Logan’s upright shaft, and when Tate’s eyes finally connected with his, they were so dark they were almost black.

“So? You want something?”

“You already know what I want. I told you.”

Logan moved across the room to open a drawer in the bottom of the entertainment center. When he came back in front of Tate, he dropped a condom on the glass coffee table and a bottle of lube on the couch beside Tate’s leg.

“Tell me exactly what you want,” Logan urged as Tate looked at the items he’d deposited.

When he brought his eyes back to Logan’s, Tate reiterated, clear as a fucking bell, “I want to hear my name, on your tongue.”

Now, it was Logan’s turn to reach down into his boxers and take a hold of his straining erection. “And then?”

Tate watched Logan’s hand and proceeded to shock the hell out of him. “And then, I want to come all over you.”

Faltering on Tate’s words, Logan stepped between his legs as Tate pushed up to sit on the edge of the couch. Tate grasped his hips between those wide palms and pressed moist lips to Logan’s lower abdomen.

“I watched that today before work,” Tate admitted against his stomach, causing Logan to almost fall over as his fingers weaved into Tate’s brown waves.

“You watched, what?”

“Two guys having sex, and then they came all over each other. It was so damn hot.”

 Tate watched gay porn? Oh shit, I am so screwed, Logan thought because he knew he needed all of those details right fucking now.

* * *

Tate nibbled the warm skin under his lips as the fingers in his hair knotted, and he knew Logan was undoubtedly reacting to what he’d just said. He wasn’t lying. This morning, after the coffee shop, Tate had spent a lot of time going over his emotions, and by the end of it, when he had decided what he wanted—well, he’d done some research.

It hadn’t taken him long to find a good free site, and for the next hour or so, he’d educated himself in a very pleasurable way. Who knew gay porn would be so sexy? Or more to the point, he hadn’t known that watching it and imagining doing all of that with Logan would be such a turn-on.

Obviously, it also excited Logan because he was practically fucking his face through his boxers. As Logan’s fingers continued to play in his hair, Tate’s head was pulled back, so he was staring up at the man looking down at him.

 “What else did you learn today?”

Tate hesitated for only a second before he told Logan the one thing that had really gotten him off. It was something he hadn’t thought about previously, but now that he’d seen it, he couldn’t get it out of his head.

“That I can take you face-to-face—with you on your back under me.”

When Logan remained silent, Tate continued, “I want you like that. I want to watch you.”

The seconds following that comment were palpable. All Tate could hear was his own harsh breathing, and then before he knew it, his hair was released, and Logan was straddling his thighs.

It was an odd feeling to have a man slightly bigger than himself kneeling over his lap. But as soon as Logan’s cock, which was straining against his boxers, brushed against his own, Tate leaned back on the couch and clutched Logan’s ass, pulling him forward.

As their mouths met, Logan agreed, “All right, do it.”

Tate thought about it for around three seconds, and then he moved. With a hand on Logan’s head and one on his ass, Tate maneuvered them, so Logan was lying flat on his back, and he was hovering over the top of him. Logan’s mouth parted as he stared up at him, and Tate couldn’t help himself from tracing his finger across his thin top lip and then the bottom.

Tate shifted on the couch until he was situated between Logan’s thighs, and he felt his own erection line up with the one beneath. Stretching above Logan’s head, Tate clutched the arm of the couch, just as Logan once had, and started to rock his hips. With eyes full of heated lust, Logan bent his legs on either side of him and arched up to meet him halfway.

Tate heard an uninhibited roar rip from his own chest. This is what it’s going to be like, he thought as he continued to writhe against Logan. When I’m inside him, I’ll get to watch every thought and feeling on his face.

Then, Logan’s arms wrapped around him, and his hands slid inside Tate’s pants to fondle his ass, making Tate desperate for the mouth inches from his. Gliding his tongue between Logan’s lips, Tate went crazy as the thighs on either side of his waist tensed, and Logan lifted his body up to drag against his own.

With a grunt, Tate lifted his head, “Oh hell,” as Logan’s fingers crept between his ass cheeks and spread him while bringing him in even closer.

“Damn, Tate. Feels good,” Logan praised.

When Tate couldn’t stand it anymore, he pushed back and knelt between the spread legs in front of him. As he looked down at the man lying back on the couch, his mouth practically watered. Logan was irresistible, and Tate couldn’t wait to get inside him.

* * *

As Tate looked him over, Logan raised one of his arms behind him. He slid his other hand down into his boxers to stroke his erection, showing off his entire body to Tate’s hungry stare.

“God, I stood no chance,” Tate told him in disbelief. “Look at you.”

“Look at you,” Logan retorted, his voice pitched-low, so he had to consciously project it for Tate to hear.

Logan’s eyes drew heavy as Tate extended his arm and curled his fingers into the elastic of the black cotton, preparing to free his cock. With a husky groan of sheer relief, Logan quickly raised his legs to allow room for Tate to pull the fabric off and throw it aside. Resuming the same position, Logan gave Tate a thorough once-over as he began to work his length under Tate’s keen gaze.

“Get naked, Tate.”

Quickly, Tate stood and removed his remaining clothes. As his erection came into view and he bent to pick up the condom, Logan couldn’t help the raw noise escaping his mouth.

Tate kept his eyes on him the entire time he sheathed his cock. When he picked up the bottle of lube and unsnapped the lid, Logan took a moment to wonder where the curious and nervous Tate had disappeared to. In his place seemed to be an entirely confident man, who was getting ready to fuck the hell out of him. Either way, he wanted Tate inside him.

Logan widened his legs as Tate got on the couch and braced one of his arms over him, so he could lean back down. As their bodies finally brushed up against each other, Logan brought his hands around to grip Tate’s ass, bringing his thick shaft, against his own.

“Ah, you like that?” Tate continued thrusting down on him.

“Yes, I fucking like it.”

Tate took his lips in a quick kiss. “So testy. I like this position.”

“Jesus, you’re talkative all of a sudden.”

When Tate stopped the slow roll of his hips, Logan almost shouted in frustration.

“I’m sorry,” Tate taunted. “I’m not supposed to talk?” He lowered his head until his mouth was beside Logan’s ear. “I thought you liked it when I told you what I wanted to do to you.”

“Holy shit, Tate, I do.”

Never in the past had he liked talkers. In fact, Logan had hated them. He’d preferred to get the deed over and done with. As long as it felt good, why would I care what was being said? But with each new discovery Tate made, Logan would get more turned-on, and he couldn’t wait to hear the next thing that would tumble out of this guy’s mouth.

Case in point…

“Good, because I really want to watch your face when I slide my fingers back inside you.”

“Fucking hell. Do it,” Logan implored. He took Tate’s lips with his own, trying to shut him up, before he came from his words alone.

Tate’s free hand burrowed down between them, and his slick palm gave Logan’s shaft a firm stroke, making Logan’s back come up from the couch. He didn’t linger there though. Tate merely lubed him up enough to create an easy glide for Logan’s own hand. Then, Tate trailed his fingers down until he was probing at his hole.

Logan closed his eyes as Tate hesitantly massaged his fingertip over the puckered skin. It wasn’t until Tate lowered his other arm and hooked it around his left leg that Logan lost his fucking rhythm. Tate steadily pressed his thigh back, stretching him wide open. Holy shit. Tate had been watching and learning.

With his leg trapped at that angle, Logan was about as vulnerable as he could get. Not a position he particularly enjoyed, but as he lay underneath Tate, he had never been more aroused. Logan was more than happy to be this particular man’s experimental body.

As Tate shifted slightly, Logan knew he was open for Tate to do with as he pleased, and for now, Tate took pleasure in looking him right in the eye as he slowly slid his index finger inside his body.

* * *

How fucking sexy is that? Tate thought as he looked down at Logan who was wide open and holding his hard length as his body sucked Tate’s finger into his depths.

“Incredible, fucking incredible,” Tate marveled, pulling his finger from Logan, only to slip it inside again.