Logan heaved a long-suffering sigh. He seemed irritated, but he wasn’t attempting to shove him off anymore.
“Quit crying and sleep,” he said at last.
Something inside Andrew loosened a little. He closed his eyes and breathed out.
The rain kept beating against the shelter’s roof, but all Andrew could hear was the steady, strong beating of the heart under his ear.
He didn’t even notice falling asleep.
Chapter 8
Logan had never been a particularly religious person. But he thought if God existed, the rain would stop by the morning and he’d able to escape the shelter.
If God existed, he clearly didn’t give a damn about him.
He woke up the next morning to the monotonous drumming of the rain.
Logan sighed and looked at the guy sprawled on his chest. The gaps in the shelter let in just enough daylight to see.
He stared at Andrew’s deceptively sweet face, at his parted lips that kept brushing against Logan’s chest every time he breathed, his long, dark eyelashes, and that smooth, golden skin.
Logan looked away and shoved the guy off him.
The confused cursing would have been amusing if Logan wasn’t in such a shitty mood.
This had been a terrible idea. What had he been thinking?
“Dick,” Andrew grumbled sleepily.
Logan got to his feet and went outside naked. He pissed, brushed his teeth, and then washed himself in the lukewarm rain, glowering at the gray sky.
He was tempted to just stay outside, the rain be damned, but no matter how warm it was, staying wet all day was a bad idea. They couldn’t afford getting sick. They didn’t have any medicine. They were also running low on toothpaste and salt, and their blankets were becoming unsalvageable even without getting jizz all over them.
Logan ran a hand over his face, his shoulders sagging.
All right. What was done was done. There was no use crying over spilled milk. Last night had been a mistake, but he wouldn’t repeat it. He’d just been frustrated. On edge. As long as he kept his dick out of that repressed little shit, it would be all right. One ill-advised sort-of-fuck didn’t have to change anything.
Feeling a little better, Logan returned to the shelter.
Andrew was stretched out on his belly, sleeping peacefully on Logan’s bedding. He was still naked.
Logan’s jaw clenched, his newfound calm evaporating in a flash. He tore his eyes away from that bubble butt and kicked Andrew on the shin. “Get off my bed.”
Andrew just mumbled something sleepily and ignored him.
Logan’s eyes returned to that smooth, plump ass. He was only a man.
Tearing his gaze away again, Logan leaned down and growled into Andrew’s ear, “Get. Off. My. Bed. Or I’ll take it as an invitation to fuck you.”
Andrew stiffened before sitting up so fast their heads nearly knocked.
He glared at Logan sleepily, raking a hand through his hair. “Fuck off,” he said, his cheeks pink. “It’s bad enough that you molested me last night. If you think I’ll let you do—do…” His blush deepened, and he scowled, unable to meet Logan’s eyes.
Snorting, Logan stretched out on his bedding. He watched through half-lidded eyes as Andrew just sat there, looking embarrassed and lost. Logan almost felt sorry for him—the guy clearly was freaking out about what had happened last night—except he didn’t like Andrew enough to feel true sympathy for him. Mostly Andrew just annoyed him—and turned him on, which only annoyed him more. But fuck, he was lovely. His hair had grown out of his short haircut and now was a mess of light brown curls, and his plump lips were practically asking to be kissed or have a hard cock stretching them. And those ridiculous eyelashes—
“You done ogling me?” Andrew said.
“No,” Logan said, letting his gaze travel down Andrew’s body, his arousal spiking at seeing all that smooth, golden skin. His gaze lingered on Andrew’s nipples, brown and pretty. He’d never thought nipples could be pretty, but somehow, Andrew’s were.
Logan shifted his gaze to the ceiling, annoyed both with Andrew and himself.
Enough. He wasn’t a goddamn teenager. He could keep it in his pants.
***
It set the pattern for the rest of the day.
Andrew kept sulking and making snide remarks about being molested the previous night—and how Logan was never allowed to put his dirty paws on him again—but he stuck close to Logan all the same. Granted, their proximity was enforced by the rain, but Andrew really didn’t have to sit quite as close to him while they ate their meager meal. It put Logan in a shitty mood, his nerves raw and his body on edge.
As night fell, they stretched out on their pathetic “beds.”
Logan stared at the ceiling of the shelter, listening to the rhythm of the falling rain. The sound was depressing. Lonely. It made him long for another person’s warmth. For another person’s touch—for something. He felt like crawling out of his own skin and doing something. Something ill-advised.
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.