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207 pages, Kindle Edition
First published December 10, 2020
⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱*Pleasantly Surprised*⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱
“If I’m sick, so are you. It turns you on, you hypocrite.” Logan bit his earlobe, making Andrew cry out. “You want me to force you. If I force you, it’s not your fault, right? Is that how you think?"
What if… What if Logan was finally going to molest him? Would he do it while Andrew slept?
Andrew swallowed as he imagined Logan pressing his body against his and groping his body in his sleep. Molesting him. Groping Andrew’s cock. Stroking his nipples. Groping his ass. Pushing his hard cock against Andrew’s ass while Andrew was none the wiser. The perv would probably pull Andrew’s shorts down and rub his stiff cock between his cheeks, grunting like an animal and taking his pleasure while Andrew slept peacefully, unaware that he was being violated.
Would he wake up? Or would he keep sleeping? Maybe if Logan was really careful, Andrew wouldn’t even find out about it until the morning when he’d find dried come on his ass. Or maybe he would wake up, but Logan wouldn’t stop, forcing him to be still as he thrust his cock between Andrew’s thighs. Logan was bigger and stronger than he was. Andrew wouldn’t be able to stop him. Logan could do whatever he wanted to him, and Andrew wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Logan might force him to suck his cock, which would be disgusting, but Andrew would have to do it; he’d have no choice.
A small sound snapped him out of his thoughts.
It took Andrew a moment to realize that he was the one who’d made the sound.
“If you’re going to jerk off, go do it outside,” Logan said.
Andrew flushed. What—
Wait, his hand was palming his cock through his shorts.
Andrew frowned, unsure when it had even happened. He was hard, for no reason.
“Get on your knees.”
Andrew’s knees suddenly felt weak.
He dropped to one knee, then the other, until he was settled between Logan’s thighs.
Logan’s hand buried in Andrew’s overgrown hair and pulled him down. “Suck me off,” he said, his voice low and hoarse.
Andrew closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m not sucking your dick. I’m not gay.”
Logan made a frustrated sound. “Then what the hell are you—”
“I’m not sucking your cock. Force me.”
‘At some point he just realized that it’d been ages since Andrew had slept on his own bedding. The guy dozed with his head on Logan’s stomach most of the time—when he didn’t fall asleep with Logan’s cock in his mouth.
The realization didn’t freak Logan out as much as it probably should have.
He just shrugged mentally and figured it was only practical. Convenient. If Andrew slept with his head burrowed against Logan’s stomach or thigh, it would be easier to slip his cock back into Andrew’s mouth in the morning.
Sometimes Andrew sucked Logan’s cock while Logan slept. Just on the tip of it, as if it were a giant pacifier. He really seemed more content with Logan’s cock in his mouth, as if sucking Logan’s cock comforted him.’
‘He pushed his thumb into his mouth and made a contented noise as he sucked on it’
‘Andrew had to grip the bedspread in his fists to stop himself from doing something stupid. Something stupid like launching himself at Logan and clinging to him like a monkey.’
Andrew snorted. “I used you like my comfort blanket.”
Smiling wryly, Logan said, “More of a teddy bear or a pacifier.”
“I hate this,” Andrew said, his voice wavering.
“I know,” Logan said. “Me, too.”
He meant it. He hated how right this felt—holding this mess of a human being, this guy who was a total wreck, who was bigoted and beyond repressed but at the same time vulnerable, lonely, and hungry for affection and approval.
“It’s like a fucking disease,” Andrew said into his chest, barely audibly. “Something empty and wrong inside me. I feel like—like a river without water. The world feels so off without you, and you’re the only thing that makes me feel whole.”
“You’re doing something. I know how you sound when you—” Logan cut himself off, muttering something frustrated under his breath. “Tell me.”
…
“This is all your fault,” Andrew complained. “You got me used to— things, and now I feel all messed up and on edge without…” Without your cock in my mouth. Without your smell all over me. Without your arms around me. Without your heartbeat against my ear.
It was bliss. It was torture. It was everything he had missed and wanted these past weeks. More than the sex—the closeness. The rightness. The exquisite intimacy of holding this person in his arms and feeling at peace with himself and the world. Like two pieces of a puzzle. Two pieces of a puzzle that should have never fit together and yet they had somehow learned to—and now couldn’t unlearn it.
Logan had never considered himself a possessive man. He’d always thought possessiveness didn’t belong in the modern world. But this submissiveness, the way Andrew allowed Logan to touch him anywhere he wanted, brought out primitive instincts that were more appropriate for a caveman. Mine, they whispered, like poison in his mind. Mine mine mine.
Andrew felt blood rush to his face. “I thought you were in New York.”
Some emotion flashed across Logan’s face and then it was gone, too quickly for Andrew to recognize it.
“I was,” he said curtly.
Andrew moistened his lips with his tongue, unsure.
Silence fell between them, charged with something terribly familiar. It felt awful but also incredibly comforting. Easy.
To his utter disgust, Andrew felt more like himself than he had in weeks. The restless, maddening anxiety under his skin—the sense of wrongness—was almost entirely gone. He just looked at Logan, and everything felt right with the world.
The way he looked—his stubbled face, his dark eyes, the sardonic curl of his firm mouth—it was… Logan looked like home. He looked like his, Andrew’s.
“...I feel like—like a river without water. The world feels so off without you, and you’re the only thing that makes me feel whole.”
It was bliss. It was torture. It was everything he had missed and wanted these past weeks. More than the sex—the closeness. The rightness. The exquisite intimacy of holding this person in his arms and feeling at peace with himself and the world. Like two pieces of a puzzle. Two pieces of a puzzle that should have never fit together and yet they had somehow learned to—and now couldn’t unlearn it.
“Fine,” he grumbled, resuming stroking. “But don’t get any funny ideas. If you even think about sticking your cock in my ass—”
“Not planning to,” Logan said. “I have standards.”
“I hate you,” Andrew said with feeling, fisting his cock faster. “God, I can’t stand you.”
Logan snorted. “The feeling is mutual, you bigoted little tease,” he said, his cock pressing harder and harder between Andrew’s cheeks.
It felt like a dream. It felt like a descent into madness. Like falling into an ocean and voluntarily drowning.
He hated how right this felt—holding this mess of a human being, this guy who was a total wreck, who was bigoted and beyond repressed but at the same time vulnerable, lonely, and hungry for affection and approval. “It’s like a fucking disease,” Andrew said into his chest, barely audibly. “Something empty and wrong inside me. I feel like—like a river without water. The world feels so off without you, and you’re the only thing that makes me feel whole.”