Элла Франк - Try

Logan’s head dropped forward, and Tate let him go as he heard, “Come on, Tate, let me have it.”

Tate withdrew, and this time, since he had permission, he promised softly, “Wish fucking granted.”

That was his only warning to Logan as he slammed his cock hard inside him.

As he picked up speed, he curled down over him, and placed both of his palms on the mattress beside Logan’s. Over and over, Tate pounded into him, and every time he did, Logan’s body chased his in a way that expressed how much it craved the cock plowing into it.

“Fucking hell, Tate. That’s it,” were the words Tate could hear coming from the man underneath him.

As his balls slapped against hot skin, he took in that new feeling, too, and added it to the list of things he loved about fucking Logan Mitchell.

* * *

 Logan was losing his mind. As he lowered his upper body to the mattress below, he could feel Tate’s sweaty chest against his back as he reached down to his lower body and rapidly pumped his cock.

“Tate!” he shouted.

Tate continued jamming his hips into his, driving farther into his ass on every hard downward slide.

There was nothing pretty about this coupling and certainly nothing familiar or practiced. This was a first-time moment for Tate. He was going at him fast and hard, and Logan loved every rough minute of it.

Pushing himself up on his arms, Tate clutched his hips, and Logan looked back and caught eyes with the man who was sliding into him with each sure thrust.

“Jesus, your ass is tighter than anything I’ve ever been inside.”

“And?” Logan challenged, urging Tate to admit what he was feeling.

Tate moved down over him and bit his shoulder as his hips started those fast, shallow digs that—fuck him—hit exactly the right spot.

“And I never want to stop.”

Logan turned his head to take Tate’s mouth, but before he did, he said, “Then, don’t.”

“I don’t plan to,” Tate assured him.

Then, their mouths met as they went at each other like they had been waiting for years instead of days.

It only took minutes this time around, just as Logan had known it would, but within several of them, his own climax raced down his spine to start the familiar ache in his balls that would lead to one amazing orgasm.

Behind him, Tate’s hips moved with much more urgency, and the fingers on his hips threatened to bruise as Tate shouted out an obscenity, and his climax hit him hard. It didn’t take anything more than knowing that Tate had come inside him for Logan to come in a hot spray of creamy fluid all over his hand and Tate’s sheets.

Unbelievable. Have I ever been so goddamn satisfied?

As Tate pulled out of him, Logan winced slightly at the loss of pressure and shifted, so he was lying on his stomach. When he felt the warm chest and Tate’s groin pressed all along the back of him, Logan smiled into the pillow.

“Holy shit,” he heard followed by Tate’s chuckle.

“No kidding,” Logan concurred from under the man stretched out on top of him. He wasn’t about to tell him to move.

“That was unfuckingreal. Did it feel good?”

Logan started to laugh at the absurdity that anyone would have to ask that after the way he had just come, and as his whole body began to shake, Tate rolled off of him and landed in—

Yep, the wet spot.

Tate’s expression of shock and the quick way he moved made Logan’s hilarity increase until he landed on his back and was holding his stomach.

“Yes, you just landed in the proof.”

“I’m glad you find this so funny.”

Tate’s response just made Logan laugh harder. As he turned his head on the pillow to face Tate, Logan couldn’t help the grin he gave him.

“I was just thinking how hard it was going to be to convince you to suck my dick if my cum is so horrifying to you.”

Tate moved then, quicker than Logan expected, and he found himself pinned under him.

“You’d be surprised at what I might do when asked to try.” Tate lowered his head to take Logan’s mouth with his own.

Before their lips connected, Logan ran his hands through all those messy curls and told him, “Truer words have never been spoken. Look at everything you did tonight. So, when do you think I should expect that—”

Tate shook his head, brushing their noses together. “Shut up for a change, would you? And just kiss me.”

Now that Logan could do. 

The next morning, Logan stood in line at The Daily Grind, waiting to get his much-needed caffeine while thinking about the night before. As far as he was aware, he and Tate had gone from first date to their first time to—

Seeing each other?

That thought alone made Logan almost break out in hives. The idea of tying himself to anyone apparently bothered him more than he’d realized, but he was also willing to try and push past it if that’s what it took to keep Tate around.

With that goal in mind, Logan stepped forward and reached out to take the hand resting by Tate’s leg. As soon as their fingers touched, Tate moved his aside and shook his head once, before stepping away from Logan and up to the counter.

Ah, so I can touch him—but only in private. Logan couldn’t pinpoint why that utterly galled him, since it never had before, but it did. Usually, he was the last person who needed assurance or commitment of any kind, but the fact that Tate was now acting like this, after almost demanding it from him—really got Logan hot under the collar.

As Tate finished his order, he turned and indicated to the corner where he was going to sit. “I’ll meet you back there,” Tate told him.

Logan found himself biting back what he really wanted to say, which would have sounded something like, Oh, I’m allowed to sit with you? But he didn’t say it. Instead, he nodded briskly and inhaled the scent of soap clinging to Tate’s skin. The man smelled extraordinary.

Walking up to the counter, Logan greeted the familiar young woman behind it. “Hey, Libby.”

“Logan, hey. How are you?”

Libby had been working at The Daily Grind for the last two years, always on the morning shift when he came in. She was cute and sweet with auburn hair and freckles everywhere. She also enjoyed hassling him at every opportunity she got.

“Oh, pretty good. Running a little late today.”

When she looked around his shoulder and over in the direction where Tate had gone, Logan made sure not to turn and follow her gaze.

“For a good reason, I hope?”

Logan chuckled and grinned. “Am I ever running late for a bad one?”

“Good point. Then again, you’ve never come in here with anyone either.”

Logan shook his head and then lowered his voice, “Tell me Robbie isn’t working today, and I’ll love you forever.”

“If only it were that easy to win your love, Logan.”

Feeling hopeful, he pressed, “So, he’s not?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Libby, come on, help me out.”

“He’s here, but I’ll keep him away. Sound good?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Logan supposed. What the hell was I thinking, bringing Tate here? “I’ll have an espresso, please.”

“Anything else?” she asked with a smile.

Logan gave an absent shake of his head. “Nope, that’s all.”

“Okay, I’ll call it out when it’s ready.” She paused and picked up the other cup before giving him a mischievous look. “With Tate’s?”

Amazing, even his name excites me. Logan turned and made his way over to the booth where the man who belonged to that name waited.

* * *

Tate sat toward the far back corner of the coffee shop and let his eyes take in his surroundings. Several couches were on the opposite side near the large windows that showed all of the businessmen and women—just like Logan, he supposed—making their way to work. Several of the tables in the middle of the shop were full, and as his gaze finally came back to Logan, who was still talking to the redheaded barista, Tate knew he needed to wake up and get his brain in gear.

Last night was still running on a continuous loop through his head, and when Tate had woken up to find Logan sitting fully dressed on the chair in his room, he’d known it was time to think fast. Real life was about to come calling, and there was no way to hide from what he’d done.

* * *

 “I need to go and get clean clothes for work. Meet me for coffee? Nine thirty at The Daily Grind on LaSalle?”

Tate nodded his head against the pillow and could smell Logan’s aftershave all over his sheets. He had an insane urge to bury his face in it and then maybe masturbate all over them, but instead, he rolled onto his back. “Yeah, okay. What time is it now?”

“Six.”

“Oh shit. Of course you’re a morning person,” he mumbled.

Logan stood and crossed the space to the bedroom door. “So, nine thirty?”

Tate agreed halfheartedly, resting an arm across his eyes.

“Tate?”

As his name was called, he lowered his arm and watched Logan’s tongue moisten his lips.

“Yeah?”