Fuck me.
Well if I wasn’t hard already, I am fucking now. Shit.
“Jesus. You can’t say shit like that.”
I stride across the tiled floor, closing the distance between us. I stop when I realize moving closerwas a mistake, because from this angle, I can see exactly what he’s doing with his hand. Slow leisure strokes from root to tip, rolling his palm over his swollen crown. I stop and stare, transfixed by the motion and the way he tilts his hips slightly forward to follow his strokes.
“You like it. I haven’t heard your safe word yet.”
I swallow, wetting my lips as I take him in. My eyes dart back toward the door, the team's noise still in the distance. My heart pounds double-time behind my ribcage. He’s right. I could have ignored his message. Let the showers fill up with the guys so I’d have a buffer. But I didn’t; I shed my gear like it was on fire, barely tossing it into my cubby before chasing after him like some sort of addict. Because this is an addiction. Especially now that I know what his dick feels like hitting my prostate with every fucking stroke while he’s deep inside of me.
“You’re right. I do. But you said?—”
He smiles. “It’s still true. You know as well as I do that they are going to be at least five minutes. They are probably comparing dick sizes or doing the helicopter as they get undressed. Now, are you going to do what I told you to do, or do I have to make you?”
My cock twitches, fully hard and so ready to get the attention I’m being commanded to give it. Keeping my eyes on him, I push off my pants, my erection on full display as I hang up my towel and twist on the shower right next to him.
I snag his soap bottle because the idea of smelling like him for the rest of the day is too tempting. Adding a large drop to my palm, I circle my cock and stroke until my length and balls are coated with the scent of his soap.
His nostrils flare, and his eyes heat as he watches my hand rub over my length and squeeze my head in a steadymotion that I know will have me coming before any of the team arrives. Especially with him watching me.
“Is this what you wanted to see?” I breathe on the tail end of a moan.
His gaze hooks into mine, hungry and full of lust. For a second, the air feels too thick to breathe. Water hisses between us, steam curling around our bodies like smoke, hiding nothing and everything at once.
“Yeah,” he says softly, voice rough around the edges. “That’s exactly what I wanted.”
Every word drags over my skin. I should move, should shut this down before I completely lose my mind, but my body won’t listen. I stroke faster, my eyes dropping shut at the sensations.
“Logan…” I groan and crack my eyes open to look at him.
He doesn’t look away. “You should hurry,” he murmurs. “Wouldn’t want the others to walk in on something they don’t understand.”
I bite back another groan and do what he says. Spilling all over the tile between us in hot ropes of cum that rinses down the drain. The corner of his mouth tilts up as he drags his dark brown eyes back to mine.
“Such a good boy,” he says, his hand working faster over his length. And I do the fucking unthinkable and drop to my knees, taking his tip into my mouth and sucking as he strokes even faster. “Holy fucking shit…Yeah, that’s it, Baby.”
He threads his fingers into my hair and sinks deeper into my mouth, cum spurting against the back of my throat and leaking from the corner of my lips as he just keeps coming. I swallow as much as I can, completely drunk on his taste, needing more.
But then he tugs hard on my hair, popping me off ofhim with a wet sound and guiding me back to my feet. Before I can even catch my breath, he gives me a firm shove under the spray of my own shower.
I stumble slightly, disoriented, blinking through the water as the sound of footsteps and low laughter echoes off the tiled walls.
“Dude, hurry up. I’m fucking starving,” Peter’s voice calls out—closer now.
Shit.
Blue’s voice joins his teasing. “You are always starving, bro.”
I duck my head into the spray, rinsing off fast. My hands scrub over my face, my chest, everywhere. I can still feel Logan on my tongue, still taste him, still throb from how hard I came just from his voice telling me what to do.
By the time I cut off the water and wrap the towel low around my hips, Logan’s already done. He’s not even flustered—just calmly walking out ahead of me, towel slung casually at his waist like he didn’t just mouth-fuck me two minutes ago.
I trail behind, heartbeat jackhammering in my chest as we step back into the locker room.
Daniel’s bent over at his locker, still laughing with Eli about something, but Logan? Logan drops down in front of his cubby as if it’s any other day. No tension in his shoulders.
He uses a second towel to dry off his chest and hair before he pulls on a t-shirt that fits him perfectly. Then he stands and drops the towel before drying off the rest of his body. And I can’t pull my eyes away as I start drying off. After he’s done, he sits back down and stretches one leg out in front of him and picks up his phone, typing out a quicktext message before putting it down and pulling on his socks and shoes, the very picture of unbothered.
