No blood or trauma.
Just the weirdest, most intense relief, followed by a wave of heat that crashed through Tommy’s whole body, leaving him shivering and weirdly desperate.
For once, losing control didn’t feel like falling behind, it felt like being caught.
“Oh my god,” he gasped, staring at Chase’s hand like it was the Holy Grail. “That felt…I mean, your hand, it felt really good. Can you…do that again? Maybe a little more?”
He was definitely blushing. Logan’s arms tightened. Tommy could see the question in Chases eyes as he looked to Logan.
“Alright,” Chase said gently. “We go slow.”
Tommy tried not to think about the fact that he was currently half-naked in a bathroom that looked like the set of a low-budget crime drama, with two men staring at his ass like it was the Mona Lisa. He tried to focus on the warmth of Logan’s arms around him, the steady, grounding pressure of Logan’s chest against his shoulder blades, and not on the fact that Chase was crouched between his knees, looking way too professional about this.
But then Chase’s fingers pressed in again, careful and slow, and Tommy’s brain short-circuited.
He’d expected pain, maybe some awkward wriggling, but instead it was just heat and pressure, a weirdly electric fullness that made his toes curl against the cold tile. Chase was gentle, circling the rim, coaxing him open. Tommy tried to breathe, but every time Chase moved, it was like his whole body lit up, nerves jangling, arousal and embarrassment fighting for space in his skull.
He heard himself whimper. Actual, honest-to-god whimpering. God, he was never going to live this down.
But Logan just murmured, “That’s it, you’re doing amazing,” and kept running his hand through Tommy’s hair, slow and steady, like Tommy was a skittish animal and not a grown man about to be rearranged on a molecular level.
Chase added a second finger, slick and sure, and Tommy’s hips jerked up involuntarily. The stretch was intense, but not bad. Not really. More like his body had been waiting for this, like the plug was just a warm-up act and now the main event was here and Tommy was… embarrassingly ready for it.
“Still good?” Chase asked, voice low and a little rough.
Tommy nodded, barely trusting himself to speak. “Yeah, just… more, please.”
He sounded desperate. He was desperate.
Chase didn’t hesitate. Third finger, then fourth, working him open in slow, careful increments. Tommy’s body trembled, sweat prickling at his hairline, every muscle in his legs drawn tight. He could feel every knuckle, every shift and twist, and it was insane, how good it felt, how much he wanted it. Logan’s hand moved to his jaw, tilting his face up, and Logan kissed him, slow and deep, swallowing Tommy’s moan as Chase pressed his hand deeper.
Tommy almost sobbed with relief. God, he was so open, so full, his body stretching in ways he’d barely let himself imagine. Chase’s hand was big, but Tommy wanted it all, wanted to feel himself give way, wanted to be ruined and cherished in equal measure.
“Relax,” Chase murmured, “you’re right there, just let go.”
He did.
The last push sent him over, Chase’s hand sliding in up to the wrist, and Tommy’s whole body convulsed. He curled forward, forehead pressed to Logan’s chest, hands clawing for purchase as he came, white-hot and overwhelming, every nerve endingsinging. He was sobbing into Logan’s shirt, trembling, but Logan just held.
“That was amazing.” Chase said, watching Tommy in awe as he removed his hand.
Tommy let out a whimper when Chase removed his hand and left a void inside of him.
“That was … intense.” Tommy could barely make words.
Logan kissed his forehead, then lifted Tommy in his arms and carried him to the bedroom.
“Nap time.” Tommy cooed, eyes heavy, fighting to stay open. He dripped off with the image of his men on his mind.
And somewhere in the quiet afterward, Tommy understood something he hadn’t known how to name before:
Losing control didn’t mean losing safety.
Not when both of them were there to catch him.
Chapter Fifteen
Logan
