Элла Франк - Try

Those words whispered against Tate’s ear made him catch his breath as Logan’s hand wrapped around his cock.

Logan placed a foot between his legs. “Spread your legs, Tate.”

Turning his head, Tate’s eyes found Logan’s, and the heat in them lit a fire in Tate’s veins. “No.”

As the side of Logan’s lip quirked up, Tate felt his cock weep as the hand around him squeezed.

“Spread your fucking legs, Tate,” Logan ordered.

Tate was aware that doing this here was stupid and risky, but it only added to the high Logan was building in him. There was no door separating this room from the other, and anyone could walk in at any moment—but as Logan thrust his hips forward and the ridge of his hard-on nudged against Tate’s ass, Tate didn’t give a shit.

“Do it,” Logan cajoled. “And you’ll get your apology.”

Licking his dry lips, Tate’s focus zeroed in on Logan’s mouth that was only an inch away.

“Most normal people apologize first,” Tate explained on an edgy breath as he slowly widened his legs.

When the hand around him began to stroke, a strong thigh worked its way between his, and it moved upward to add pressure against his balls. Tate cursed under his breath as he pushed back against Logan’s unyielding frame.

“Haven’t you noticed by now that I’m not like most normal people?”

Tate looked over the face beside his own, and then he gave in. He lunged forward to take Logan’s lips just as he’d been thinking about doing since the man had left him this morning. As soon as Logan’s mouth opened, Tate dropped the empty tray by his feet and shoved his tongue inside, tangling it against Logan’s. Tate’s trapped arm between them was pulled out from behind his back and pressed up against the wall. Logan ripped his mouth away and tugged on Tate’s erection. Logan rolled his hips forward in a way that suggested he was imagining being inside him.

“Fuck, Tate,” he hissed as though he was in agony.

If the steel-like rod massaging Tate’s ass was any indication, Logan was suffering.

“Don’t blame me. You started this,” Tate accused.

Logan released Tate’s straining flesh and gave a caustic laugh. Tate eyed the hand that slammed down by his head, mirroring the position Logan had his trapped one in. He could barely breathe as the tense body behind him caged him in.

 “No. You started it this afternoon, and you’ve been seething ever since. But now you’re just irked because you want me. So, I suggest you put your hand down your fucking pants and finish it.”

“Fuck off. I’m not gonna do—ah, fuck, Logan.”

Tate’s indignation left him as Logan’s teeth found his neck, and his thigh pressed higher between his legs.

“You better hurry. Pretty sure someone will notice you’re missing soon,” Logan taunted, moving his entire body against Tate’s back as if they had all night.

Tate finally gave in and reached down inside his pants to start jacking himself off. His boxers were damp with the pre-cum leaking from his cock. He flattened his cheek to the wall and began to quickly pump his demanding erection.

He could feel Logan’s broad chest against his back, pinning him to the wall, as he continued to grind his hips over and over into him. Tate closed his eyes, and he wasn’t sure what to think about the fact that with every rough stroke of Logan’s erection, his ass seemed to crave what it didn’t yet know.

The loud huffs of breath that were warm against Tate’s ear accelerated as he fisted his length and shoved back against Logan harder. Wanting a smoother and quicker friction over his cock, Tate raised his hand and spit into his sticky palm.

Logan groaned loudly behind him. “Jesus. You’re a dirty fucker,” he growled.

Tate started stroking himself again and saw Logan’s hand leave the wall before weaving through his hair to pull it aside.

“I fucking love it.” Logan’s strong teeth bit down into his neck while his hips rammed against Tate.

Tate cupped the head of his cock and turned to clamp his own teeth into the arm that Logan still had propped against the wall. As he grunted against the fabric of the suit, Tate felt Logan’s body slam him into the wood as he exploded into his own palm in a toe-curling climax.

He pulled his mouth from Logan’s sleeve, and as he let his breathing slow down, Tate heard against his skin, “I’m sorry.”

Making sure to keep his hand closed, Tate shut his eyes as he rested back against the man still pinning him to the wall.

“I’m sorry for not saying everything that I should have to Cole. Things like, this is serious, and he’s so much more than just some fun I’m having. It’s just been a while since I’ve had to think about someone else.”

Tate pressed his forehead to the wood as Logan’s mouth moved up his neck. He tried to remember what they’d been discussing. Apologies, wasn’t it? And having to think about others? That was something he was having great difficulty with at the moment, considering what had just happened.

But Tate managed to ask, “And now that you are?”

“Now that I am, you’re all that I think about,” Logan stressed.

Tate felt the hold on his arm finally release him from the wall as the body behind him relaxed for the first time since he’d been pulled into the room.

 “You caught me mouthing off to Cole. We’d argued earlier, and obviously, it’s no excuse, but it carried over. I’m sorry I said those things, and I’m sorry you heard it.”

Regaining his composure, Tate turned his head to look over his shoulder. When their eyes met, he told Logan, “I don’t have any expectations of how you should act, you know. I don’t even know what I’m doing half the time. Just don’t play around with me, okay? If you want this, fine. But if you don’t, tell me, so I’m not wasting my fucking time. I just want the truth.”

Logan focused on him, and he looked slightly shocked. Then, in a tone that Tate had never heard, he explained, “You’re not the only one who has changed in the last two weeks.” He paused and brought a hand up to touch Tate’s mouth before taking a step back. “You make me want things that I’d forgotten I wanted.”

As Tate was freed to turn around, he felt his heart beating rapidly until it overshadowed the throb that had, for now, subsided between his thighs. “That’s probably the most sincere thing that I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”

Logan lowered his eyes to Tate’s hand. “Now, that’s not true. I was very sincere this morning when I told you that I loved sucking your—”

“Don’t ruin it,” Tate interrupted.

Logan stepped in close and took his closed hand with his own. Tate shook his head at the sensual look crossing Logan’s features as he raised it up to his mouth.

“But it’s true. I love sucking you almost as much as I love the taste of your cum.”

Logan’s tongue came out and licked Tate’s palm and fingers clean before raising his head and tracing it over Tate’s swollen lips.

“And you think I’m dirty.”

Logan let his hand go and reached down to adjust the obvious erection Tate could see in his pants.

“You are. But I’m much dirtier.”

“You really like the taste of it?” Tate asked, wanting to know.

“Well, I’m not lying just to get in your pants. Plus, didn’t you just say you wanted the truth?”

Logan stepped away quickly zipping his pants back up, before looking over to where Tate was standing. Tate watched him run a hand through his hair as a frown formed on his face, and the atmosphere in the small, dark room changed from sex to serious.

And with them both staring at one another, Tate asked, “So…what’s your truth, Logan?”

Logan stared at him so intently that Tate wondered what was going on inside his head before he replied, “I think you are,” leaving Tate speechless.

Logan had left the bar not long after he and Tate had each agreed that they needed a night off—a night to breathe and reflect. Or in Logan’s case, as he sat on the balcony with his feet propped up on the table and half a bottle of whiskey, he needed a night to get fully loaded. Resting his head back on the chair, he stared out at the scattered lights in the buildings surrounding him.

Tate Morrison. Logan hadn’t been lying. There was nothing easy about what he was feeling when it came to that man. Scary and surprising—yes.

He wasn’t one to give much credence to the whole love notion. Very little of it had been passed around in his life so far, and he just figured it was something people made up to make themselves feel better. That was, until Tate.

He’d managed to make Logan feel something only one other before him had, and Logan wasn’t sure if that made him happy or terrified. All he knew was that whatever it was, he needed to keep a close handle on it.

Raising the bottle, he took another sip, well on his way to the relaxed state he was craving.

Cole was also running through his head tonight. It had been a long time since he’d fought with that guy, and he hated it. They’d decided many years ago that it was neither of their faults that life had dealt them an asshole for a father, but every now and then, the old resentment came through, and Logan couldn’t help feeling pissed that he was the one their father had thrown away.

Placing the bottle down beside him, his cell phone started vibrating on the table. Reaching forward, he picked it up and saw Tate’s name flashing across the display. Sitting back in the chair, he snagged the bottle again and answered.

* * *

 Tate settled into his couch and waited for Logan to pick up. He’d been thinking about their conversation ever since Logan had left the bar earlier. A lot had been said in the few words Logan had actually spoken, and when he’d told Tate they should just meet up sometime tomorrow, Tate had known he, too, felt their relationship had shifted directions.

Glancing at the digital display on the DVR, he saw that it had just turned one fifteen. Maybe he’s sleeping? It was late. Just as he was about to hang up, the phone connected, and Logan’s voice washed over him.

“I was just thinking about you.”

Tate lay back on his couch and placed his head on the end pillow. “Should I even ask?”

There was a longer pause than he would have expected before Logan spoke.

“I don’t know. Do you want to?”

Tate knew this conversation could go one of two ways, and as much as he wanted to take the easy way out, he also wanted some answers if Logan were in the mood to give them.

“You asked me that like you expect me to say no,” Tate stated, and when there was no response, he asked, “Do you? Expect me to say no?”

“I don’t know. I think maybe I do.”

Wow, well, that’s honest, Tate thought as he closed his eyes. “Want to tell me why?” He heard something—liquid, maybe—through the phone.

“I don’t know. Maybe because a couple of weeks ago, the thought of kissing a guy disgusted you.”

Logan sounded so different compared to the way he usually did that Tate couldn’t help himself from asking, “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” he admitted.

Tate wasn’t surprised that Logan was just as blunt when it came to the hard truths as he was with the easier ones.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Does it still disgust you?”

“The thought of kissing a guy? Or the thought of kissing you?”

Silence met his question as though Logan was thinking about it. “Isn’t it one and the same?”

Tate tried to imagine himself kissing another man, other than Logan, but since he’d never even entertained the thought before, he really didn’t have an answer. “It might be, but before you, I’d never thought about it.”

There was another louder swish in his ear, and Tate knew what the sound was. Logan was drinking.

“What are you drinking?”

“Jack.”

“You’re drinking cheap whiskey? Why not the usual?”

“Because Jack was here, and he’s real nice to swallow.”

“Do you just come up with this shit? Or do you have it all written down somewhere?”

“Hmm, I should write it down, shouldn’t I?”

Again, the sound of Logan taking a drink came through the phone, and then he asked, “So…why did you think about kissing me?”