“Oh God, Tate.”
Tate looked up to where Logan was watching him like a hawk. “What? I didn’t do anything.”
“You’re looking at me like you’re about to eat your favorite fucking meal.”
That boosted Tate’s confidence to a whole other level, and he smiled up at Logan as he encircled the base of the shaft in front of him. As Logan’s mouth fell open, Tate told him, “Who knows? Maybe I am.”
“God, please let that be the fucking truth,” Logan gritted out between a clenched jaw.
Tate lowered his eyes to his hand and glided his fist up the swollen, aching flesh he held. “What do you like?”
“Think about what you like and just—”
Tate flicked his tongue across the glistening tip, and Logan’s entire body vibrated against him.
He finished his thought by saying, “Ah shit, yes. Do that.”
Feeling encouraged, Tate did it again—lingering, he ran his tongue all around the head and down under to the sensitive glans. Checking to see if he was doing okay, he figured he must have been because Logan had shut his eyes, and his head was back against the door.
Constricting his fist, Tate drew his hand up the long length, and this time, when he lowered his lips, he sucked the head inside his mouth. The salty taste of pre-cum was the first thing Tate acknowledged, just before the rain-soaked, earthy scent that was all Logan hit him. This was definitely different, but as he relaxed into it, Tate became aware of how much he was enjoying it.
“Oh fuck. Fuck, Tate.”
Hearing his name being cursed out above him was a major turn-on, but when Logan’s fingers curled in his hair, Tate knew he could become addicted to this. Down on his knees in front of Logan, he held all the power because, right now, Logan was his.
Releasing Logan’s shaft, Tate raised both hands and framed it with his thumbs and fingers. As it pointed out toward him, he sucked the tip back into his mouth, and then he took a deep breath and lowered his lips. He made it as far as he could before drawing up, feeling light-headed from the lack of oxygen.
“Breathe through your nose.”
Tate glanced up, slightly embarrassed, to see Logan staring down at him.
“When you do that again—and please, you have to do it again—breathe through your nose.”
Taking in the instruction, Tate once again lowered his head, but before he sucked him between his lips, he stopped and blew a breath across Logan’s wet skin. It was something he himself always liked, and judging by the hand that pulled his face closer to the cock waiting for him, it was also something Logan liked, too.
* * *
Hell, even when he’s not trying, Tate is a tease.
Every single move he made was designed to turn Logan on even more than he already was—or maybe it was just who was doing it.
As it was, with Tate on his knees and between his thighs, Logan was finding it difficult not to ram his hips forward and slide to the back of Tate’s throat.
Oh yeah, I can’t wait until I can do that, and fucking shoot my load all over his tongue. But Logan didn’t want to freak Tate out, and the slow, tentative way Tate was lowering his lips down him was sweet torture all on its own.
Closing his eyes, Logan concentrated on the small noises he could hear, and the fact that it was Tate making the sucking sounds was almost enough to make him lose it right there. Tate had his lips wrapped around his cock, and it was driving Logan insane to even think about it.
As the man in front of him seemed to grow more confident in his actions, Logan felt one of the hands on his groin move down between his legs, and he couldn’t help the curse that left him when that hand cupped his balls.
“Motherfucker.”
“Hmm,” Tate hummed as if he was—please let him be—enjoying every single thing he was doing.
Clasping Tate’s head, Logan gradually began to move his hips, sliding past the lips tormenting him. The hand between his thighs slowly pushed his balls up as Tate drew his mouth off him and leaned in to press his lips against Logan’s lower abdomen.
Logan hadn’t expect Tate to do anything other than what was the necessary, but as he stood there, Tate shoved his damp shirt aside and ran his tongue over the muscles beneath his navel. He rooted his nose in against Logan’s skin as though he loved the smell of him, and then with a hand on Logan’s balls and his chin bumping against his erection, Tate raised his eyes to meet with his.
The look of absolute lust and acceptance at what he was doing made Logan want to strip him of his clothes and take Tate on the floor—fuck the fact that he was at work. Instead, he took Tate’s head with both hands and urged him up his body. Logan wanted his mouth.