“Good?”
“Fuck yes,” Tate rasped, right before he cupped Logan’s face and tackled him backward onto the bed.
When Logan’s back hit the mattress, he managed to get his legs out from under him and parted enough before Tate landed back between them. Raising his knees on either side, he tightened them at Tate’s waist while he continued to stroke the pulsating hardness in his hand.
Logan could feel his own cock restricted between their bodies as Tate took his mouth in a rough kiss, and his hips rocked forward on top of him. As a greedy tongue shoved between his lips to tangle with his own, Logan released his hold and shifted positions, so his own shaft came into direct contact with Tate’s.
Just as he was about to encircle them together in his hand, Tate lifted his mouth and pinned him with a stare.
“Why’d you stop?”
Logan wrapped his palm around them both, groaning as he gave a solid squeeze of his fist, and he was satisfied only when he heard a similar noise leave Tate.
“I wanted to give you your first cock rub, or as it’s sometimes referred to, and my personal favorite, an Ivy League rub. You don’t mind, do you?” Logan asked the inquisitive man above him.
Arching his pelvis, Logan pushed through his palm, creating a hot friction against Tate’s sensitive erection.
“Oh, holy shit,” Tate cursed out on a sharp breath.
“My sentiments exactly,” Logan agreed and craned up to press his lips to Tate’s. “Now, stick your tongue in my mouth and feel me.”
* * *
Tate had no problem with that. Pressing his mouth to Logan’s, he plunged his tongue between the lips that had been driving him crazy since they’d first met as the raw pleasure of his first—What did Logan call it? Ivy League rub? Of course, it sounds pretentious—flooded through him.
Tate really wanted to see what was going on between his legs. “I want to…”
“You want to what?”
“I want to watch what you’re doing to me.” Tate emphasized by propelling his hips forward.
The fist around him disappeared, and he was rolled onto his back, a position he wasn’t quite comfortable with yet in the presence of—well, this man.
“Um…”
“Relax, Tate.” Logan lay on his side, angled toward him, smoothing his hand over and around Tate’s eager cock. “Now, roll this way, would you? And turn your fucking brain off.”
Tate did as he was told and turned to face Logan with a scowl.
“I should tell you, that expression on your face? It doesn’t upset me. It just turns me on even more.”
“Fuck you,” Tate groused, feeling the hand around him tug hard enough to make him grit his teeth and hiss.
“Are you sure you’re ready for that just yet?”
Tate, determined not to be provoked, slid his fingers into Logan’s black hair and took a firm hold until he saw Logan wince. Pulling him the short distance between them, Tate told him, “Probably not, but maybe a good fucking would finally shut your goddamn mouth.”
The palm around him stroked over his aroused flesh, and Tate angled his hips toward it, watching as a depraved smile spread across the lips only inches from him.
“You’re welcome to try, but unless something’s shoved in my mouth, I have to tell you, it’s next to impossible to ever shut me up.”
Tate decided to ignore that comment, and instead, he dropped his gaze down between them, prompting Logan to follow suit. The sight that greeted Tate took his breath away as much from the unfamiliarity of what he was seeing as the wonderfully salacious feelings he was experiencing.
Both of their engorged cocks were lined up against one another, dripping with excitement, and as Logan’s hand clasped them both, Tate couldn’t resist wrapping his own palm over the top.
Fascinated at what he was witnessing, Tate watched avidly as Logan’s slightly longer shaft glided up against his and poked out from where their hands ended, rubbing against his own aching erection. As a rasping breath was torn from Tate’s throat, Logan’s free hand wrapped around his neck and pulled him forward.
“Seen enough?”
Tate glanced back to Logan, “Why?”
“Because I really want to come all over you.”
Tate’s breathing faltered at the thought, and he stilled Logan’s hand. “What should I do?”
Logan leaned in, kissing him quickly. “Whatever feels good.”
Tumbling to his back, Tate forgot his aversion to the position as he brought Logan up over him, stretching out, so their bodies were touching from chest to toe. When Logan’s hand left him, Tate moaned from the loss until it came up to rest by his head, and Logan started to thrust against him in earnest.