Like the space between them was a problem he needed to solve immediately.
Now the space just… existed.
Comfortable.
Predictable.
Tommy told himself that was normal.
That was what long-term love looked like.
But something restless curled under his ribs anyway, sharp and fizzy, like carbonation he couldn’t release.
He missed the chase.
Missed the way Logan used to look at him like restraint was a daily struggle.
Tommy shifted closer on the couch before he could talk himself out of it.
His smaller knee pressed more firmly into Logan’s thicker thigh.
No reaction.
Logan leaned forward again, laughing at something in his headset.
Tommy swallowed.
He reached out, fingers tracing lightly up Logan’s arm over solid muscle, over warm skin.
That earned him a glance.
“Hold on,” Logan muttered into the mic. “One sec.”
He pulled the headset off one ear, squeezing Tommy’s thigh absently. His large hand applied easy pressure, affectionate but automatic, before turning his attention back to the game.
Automatic.
That word stuck.
Tommy leaned closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating off Logan’s body. He pressed a slow kiss behind his ear, wherethe scent of cedarwood cologne lingered faintly against warm skin.
Logan’s breath caught, small, but there.
“Babe,” he murmured, half warning, half amused.
Tommy let his fingers drift down Logan’s chest, slower this time. Intentional. He could feel the steady rise and fall of Logan’s breathing beneath his palm.
Lower.
Lower. Under his finger dance along the happy trail leading to buried treasure. Tommy fingered the elastic of Logans shorts, but decided against diving in. He runs his hand over Logan’s shorts, palm rested on the soft flaccid bulge.
Is it still sleeping?
Tommy’s confidence faltered.
For a heartbeat, nothing changed.
The absence hit harder than rejection would have. Heat rushed up his neck as doubt flooded in, sudden and sharp. Maybe he’d misread the moment. Maybe Logan was humoring him. Maybe comfort had finally replaced hunger in a way neither of them had noticed until now.
