He knew Andrew wasn’t asleep.
There was tension in the air, so thick he could almost taste it.
Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore.
He rolled onto his side and pressed his chest against Andrew’s back.
Andrew let out a sigh that seemed both relieved and annoyed. “Fuck off.”
Logan wrapped an arm around Andrew’s waist and pressed them flush against each other, his erection nestling between Andrew’s cheeks. “Stop making it complicated,” he said, nipping at Andrew’s nape. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“But—”
“Shut up and jerk off. You know you want to.”
After a long moment, he heard the telltale sound of flesh moving against flesh.
Burying his face against Andrew’s nape, Logan closed his eyes and sought his own release.
It really meant nothing. Just two touch-starved, lonely humans seeking relief and comfort. Nothing more.
But fuck, touching Andrew was oddly addictive. Logan hadn’t realized how much he’d missed having a warm, naked body in his arms. An orgasm was kind of secondary to the pleasure derived from physical contact.
He had intended to just grind against Andrew’s ass while the other guy jerked off, but he felt greedy now. He wanted more. His hands started wandering, stroking Andrew’s chest and stomach, kneading his pecs and brushing his nipples.
“Stop that,” Andrew murmured weakly, but he didn’t attempt to pull away and didn’t stop stroking his own cock.
Logan ignored him, his face buried in Andrew’s nape as his hand rubbed and tweaked those pretty nipples. Fuck, he wished he could suck on them.
He pinched the left nipple and Andrew whined, shuddering against him. Logan slid his hand lower, over Andrew’s trembling stomach, and then lower, until his hand bumped against Andrew’s.
The guy tensed up.
After a long beat, Andrew’s hand dropped.
Logan wrapped his hand around the stiff cock.
Andrew let out a shaky breath. “I’m not gay,” he said, haltingly.
Logan just scoffed. Andrew’s cock was a nice size, a little shorter and slimmer than his own, and it was already leaking pre-come as Logan started stroking it.
“I’m not gay,” Andrew said again, but his words came out more like a moan.
“I’m not hearing a no,” Logan said, jacking him off.
“As if a no would stop you.”
“You won’t find out unless you try it,” Logan said dryly, but he didn’t press. He knew Andrew felt better about this if he could pretend that he was being forced. Logan should have probably been more bothered by it, but he wasn’t. Had he cared for Andrew or—God forbid—actually wanted a relationship with him, this would have been offensive as fuck. But as things stood, Andrew continuing being a bigoted little shit practically guaranteed that Logan wouldn’t get attached. This meant nothing. Just a base need that didn’t mean anything.
So he stroked Andrew’s cock, deriving a sick sort of pleasure from every moan that bigoted straight guy let out as a “homo” jacked him off.
Andrew clearly was trying to be quiet, trying to swallow his noises, but soon enough, he couldn’t stop his moans from slipping out of his mouth. His hips started moving too, fucking into Logan’s fist helplessly until Andrew was a moaning, trembling mess.
“No—” Andrew cried out as Logan took his hand away.
“Turn around.”
Andrew did as he was told, gasping.
“Touch my cock,” Logan said.
“I won’t.”
Chuckling, Logan took Andrew’s hand and wrapped it around his aching cock. “Jack it off.”
“I’m not gay.”
“Jack it off. Or I won’t touch yours.”
“I hate you,” Andrew said, but his hand finally moved, a little hesitant at first. “This is disgusting.”
“Shut up, or I’ll shut you up with my cock.”
That shut Andrew up.
“But maybe you’ll like it,” Logan said, pressing their foreheads together. He resumed stroking Andrew’s cock. “Maybe that’s what you actually want: a fat cock in your mouth—”
“Fuck off,” Andrew said breathlessly, squeezing Logan’s cock tighter and fucking into Logan’s fist. “I’m not a—”
“Faggot? You have a cock in your hand, straight guy.” Logan sucked on his jawline. “And you like it.”
“No—” The word turned into a long moan as Andrew came into Logan’s hand. “Oh.”
Logan pushed Andrew’s boneless body onto his back.
“My turn,” he said, stroking his own cock with Andrew’s come, getting it nice and slick.
The guy under him seemed barely conscious and allowed Logan to arrange his limbs the way he wanted them. Fuck, something about it went straight to Logan’s cock. Having this confrontational, opinionated asshole so pliant and satisfied in his arms was beyond arousing. Logan put his slick cock between Andrew’s thighs, squeezed them together, and then fucked them, hard and fast, until he saw stars.
He collapsed on top of Andrew, burying his face in his neck. He breathed, his body still shuddering with the afterglow.
He felt better than he had in months.
Chapter 9
The rain finally stopped on their eleventh day in the shelter.
It was too little, too late, but Andrew still felt relieved.
The enforced closeness had fucked everything up, not allowing him to put some much-needed distance between them—not allowing him to escape. A week. He’d had to put up with Logan groping and molesting him every night for a week, and Andrew’s stupid, traitorous body had betrayed him every time—to Logan’s amusement.