Logan’s breathing changed first. It was subtle but noticeable. His chest rising deeper as his attention narrowed fully onto Tommy.
The television light flickered behind them, forgotten now, the game still running but abandoned.
Tommy swallowed, mouth dry, pulse a little wild in his throat. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for here? A medal, maybe, for initiative. Or to see Logan look at him like he was the only thing in the room that mattered.
Logan’s gaze dropped, black eyes tracking every inch as Tommy slipped his hands up, thumbs already tugging at Logan’s waistband. The fabric was soft, well-worn. Easy to push down. Logan made a low sound, almost a warning, but didn’t move to stop him. Didn’t even help. Just watched, breathing getting heavier, shoulders tense like he was bracing for impact.
Good.
He wanted Logan to remember this, hours from now, days from now. Maybe next time he’d put the controller down first. Tommy wanted to leave a mark.
No preamble.
No teasing.
Just hunger.
He licked a stripe up the underside of Logan’s cock, then swallowed him down in one greedy, determined motion, almost choking himself on it, but not slowing.
He wanted to feel Logan’s thighs tense around his shoulders, wanted to taste sweat and salt.
Tommy ducked his head and took him in, mouth stretching, lips slick from spit try to escape from the corners.
He didn’t bother with slow or careful. He let himself go, sucking deep, jaw aching almost instantly as he slid down as far as he could get until his eyes watered and he gaged.
He could feel his own spit leaking down his chin, sticky and embarrassing and kind of perfect.
Logan’s thighs tensed around his shoulders, not crushing, but close. Tommy liked the feeling, liked the way Logan’s body bracketed him in, solid and unyielding, like he could do anything and Logan would let him. Or maybe not let him, exactly. Endure him. Barely.
Tommy glanced up, eyes stinging, and saw Logan’s jaw clenched so hard it looked painful, hands flexing uselessly on his shoulders.
“Shit,” Logan ground out, voice strained and sharp at the edges. “Tommy, fuck, you gotta slow down, I’m gonna, ” He cut himself off with a noise that didn’t sound like a word at all, just a rough, desperate sound that went straight to Tommy’s stomach. Or maybe lower.
He wasn’t planning on slowing. If anything, he doubled down, sucking harder, letting his lips drag and his tongue press under the head, exactly the way Logan liked.
He could feel Logan’s cock twitch in his mouth, the pulse of it wild and insistent, and Tommy’s eyes fluttered shut as he braced for it.
The first spurt hit the back of his throat, hot and bitter, and Tommy swallowed automatically, not even hesitating. He wanted to be good at this, wanted Logan to know he could take it.
Logan’s fingers tightened on his hair, not pulling, anchoring him there, like he was afraid Tommy might stop. He didn’t. He swallowed every drop, sucking until Logan hissed.
It took a moment for there breath to catch, for there heart beats to steady, then the room was quiet again. Not silent, the television still flickered in the background, forgotten menu music looping faintly, but the energy had shifted.
Slower.
Heavier.
Tommy stayed where he was for a moment, forehead resting lightly against Logan’s thigh. His hands lingered where they’d last been placed, like he hadn’t fully come back to himself yet.
Logan’s fingers moved through Tommy’s hair automatically.
Not hurried. Not demanding. Slow strokes, grounding, familiar, the kind he did without thinking.
Tommy closed his eyes at the touch.
He loved this part.
The quiet after. The closeness without expectation.
