29. Logan
LOGAN
Later, after my parents have left, I follow Chase into the shower in the master bedroom of my house.
Having him here, in my real home, instead of a hotel, has been disorienting in the best way.
Like a fantasy just stepped into my reality.
This house always felt lonely, before, and tonight, it felt like a home.
I walk into the bathroom and he’s already naked before he steps into the shower. He reaches down and runs his palm over his cock, turning and instantly noticing that I’m gawking.
“If you’re in here with me, I’m going to have to come,” he says in a low tone. He starts to stroke himself. “You know it turns me on too much to be naked near you.”
“Fuck,” I whisper.
I hadn’t known if he was too exhausted, after everything.
But I should have known better. There are some things that Chase would never be too tired for.
My cock is suddenly harder than a fucking diamond, all at once.
The past couple of days have been so brutal that the simplicity of being naked again with him feels like finding water in a desert. Before he gets into the shower, Chase reaches out a finger and gives a little tug on my belt loop, nodding.
“Take them off.”
My fingers are fumbling for the top button a moment later. My movements are sloppy, but I need these pants off faster, because the room is starting to steam up and I can’t take the feeling of the clothes anymore.
I strip off everything I’m wearing. I move to at least fold them on top of the counter but Chase grips my wrist, yanking me back toward the shower.
I step in and practically topple against him.
He leans back against the tile wall and my body covers his as I press my hands up against the wall surrounding him.
I rut my hips on him like I’m an animal. It doesn’t even feel like I’m in control of the motion, humping myself up against the top of his thigh, right beside his cock, and I can’t stop myself.
“God, every time I’m near you, you’re better than I remembered,” he says, bringing his hands to my hips and firmly pushing me away.
I moan softly, hating the sudden lack of friction as he puts space between us.
But then he rewards me, a moment later.
His hand closes around my cock and he grips it tight. “Just wanted room to touch you.”
I speak way louder than I mean to. “It’s so fucking good, Chase.”
He grips me confidently, stroking from root to tip. I can’t help but collapse forward against him a little again, hanging my head in the space just above his shoulder, but I leave just enough room to give him space to handle my cock.
We’re just outside of the shower’s spray, and I can smell him.
The faint hint of lime still on his lips from when he squeezed it into his drink earlier tonight.
Even the smell of his armpit as he strokes me is intoxicating, and that’s something I’ve never enjoyed on anyone else.
I’m crazy for him.
“Need to see you come for me,” he tells me, the side of his head softly colliding with the side of mine, hot and slightly damp from the mist. “Need you to come all over my hand and my cock, and then you’re going to use it to get me off, too.”
My heart soars.
He’s himself again.
No amount of bad days could ever stop him from having that delicious, bossy attitude.
His grip is firm and unrelenting, like he’s demanding that I come, expertly coaxing it out of me with every rough movement of his fingers.
“I fucking love it when you tell me what you want.”
I groan as he suddenly takes his hand off of my cock, leaving it throbbing and untouched between our bodies.
I can’t stop myself from pushing it forward up against his bare hip, stroking myself against his skin, searching for any amount of friction.
“I like it when you’re honest,” he says.
“Touch me again.”
I lean down and bite the top of his shoulder, right on the spot where his giant tattoo curves around toward his back.
“That’s better,” he says, and I feel his hand close around my cock again. I start bucking my hips into his fist, fucking his hand. I don’t care anymore. I can’t take it.
“Logan, I can be kind of a clingy boyfriend,” he says. “And I’ve never liked anyone as much as I like you, so it’s going to be a lot. So you have to be honest with me, and tell me if I’m ever too much. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“And you have to come for me when I tell you to, baby. Okay?”
“Yes.”
“I want you to come,” he orders. “Come for me, Logan.”
He picks up his rhythm and tightens around me, and as I fuck into his fist, the rest of the world slips out of my grasp.
I want him so badly I can’t think.
I feel the rush of my orgasm build at the base of my groin and when Chase reaches his free hand up, clutching the back of my head and pushing my face into his neck, I lose control completely.
I moan against his skin as I come, spilling warmth all over his hand, my stomach, and the top of his cock.
“Oh fuck,” I whisper. “Oh fuck.”
He releases his grip on me and grabs his own stiff cock, bringing it up underneath mine, pressing them together for a moment.
He slides my cum all over himself, and I’m a little dizzy at how hot the sight of it is, watching him coat himself with me.
I’m wrapping my hand around him before I can even catch my breath.
It felt too good.
I need to be able to make him feel even a fraction of how good it was. I switch up the angle so I can get the best hold on his cock, and something about having him in my hand always feels more intimate than every time I’ve kneeled for him.
I move a little lower as I slowly start to stroke his cock, breathing deep at the crook of his arm again, because I can’t get enough of how he smells.
He lifts up his arm a little, gazing down at me.
“You into that?” he asks.
“No,” I protest. “But apparently I can’t control what turns me on when it comes to you.”
“You like how I smell,” he taunts me. “I like how you smell.”
I move up toward his face again, speaking close to his ear. “I’m always fresh as a fucking daisy, and you’re well aware of that.”
He turns and gives my neck a little bite. “Are you saying I smell bad?”
“No. You smell fucking incredible.”
He hums. “Grip my cock harder than that.”
I oblige. I realize that he’s even closer than I thought, and he falls against me as he comes.
All at once, I’m certain of something.
I could never get sick of him.
I want this forever, and I don’t care if it feels crazy to think so.
“No energy drinks?”
“Of course not,” I tell him, looking over at him the next morning as he opens my fridge. “Actually, I don’t have anything here right now, because I’ve been in New York. You want to walk to the store down the hill with me? We can grab whatever you want.”
He hums.
He’s still shirtless, with navy blue sweatpants slung around his waist, and the way it highlights his lower abs should be illegal, it’s so sexy.
“I’m surprised you aren’t telling me how unhealthy energy drinks are.”
“I think they probably cause more anxiety than they fix sleepiness, but you do you, Chase.”
He shakes his head. “Nah. I’d rather have the Logan Special. Green juice alongside a cold brew.”
“I’m rubbing off on you, aren’t I?”
“God, I hope so, because I love it when you rub off on me.”
He laughs, and a minute later he goes to toss on a loose tank top and join me back in the kitchen. “Let’s head to that store.”
The walk down the sloping road is peaceful with Chase.
“I’ve always loved the winding roads here,” I tell him. “It’s a good ass workout, too.”
“You don’t need another ass workout. How could your ass get any better?”
“Now you’re just buttering me up.”
“I mean, hopefully. Maybe literally, later.”
I give him a little shove as he laughs, and I pull him close for a little kiss. “Why would someone use anything other than the lube literally made for it?”
“Because butter is fun?”
“And a food item.”
“That reminds me, I need to drench you in whipped cream and take pictures of you in it, like those hot old 90s photoshoots. And don’t you dare say whipped cream is bad for me, because I will be licking it off of you.”
“I think that’s only good for us both.”
I take his hand as we walk.
I tell him about the neighborhood, and the other places I lived in LA when I was a younger actor who didn’t have much money.
He asks about Santa Barbara, where I grew up until I was 18 and beelined to LA.
Our childhoods couldn’t have been more different, and his reactions to some of my stories are cute.
He says I grew up with a “storybook childhood,” and I can’t really argue against that.
But the truth is that I hadn’t let loose since the day Daniel died. Ten years is a very long time to go feeling like there’s a part of you that will never come back. I thought I had grieved, and moved on, and even found success to finally make me happy. I thought the past was in the past.
But I didn’t remember who I could be until I met Chase.
I don’t have to spend every minute of my life trying to be perfect for the whole world. Wanting everyone to like me, and carefully controlling the way the media perceives me. Feeling like the sky is falling anytime I receive too much attention.
Chase reminded me that the real me is someone worth being.
No matter what anyone else in the world thinks about it.
We reach the cluster of palm trees that surround the corner store a few minutes later, and we step inside. I greet the man at the register, who I haven’t seen in a long time, now. We grab some fresh fruits and coffee beans to bring home, and Chase gets a pack of Starburst.
Before we walk back outside, I lean over to warn Chase.
“There’s a couple of people who saw me come in here, I think,” I tell him, nodding toward a few giddy-looking people holding their phones expectantly outside the door.
He nods. “Got it. Ready for action.”
I push open the door and I realize that they’re not just here for me.
They’re here for us.
“Logan! And I have to ask… are you Chase? His photographer?”
“Wow,” Chase says. “Yeah. That’s me. I’ve never been recognized before.”
The woman nods. “That photoshoot is like, the hottest thing that’s ever existed. Sorry if that’s too much to say. Chase, I love your paintings, too! I just followed you on Insta last night.”
“Logan,” someone else says from across the way. “Who’s the hunk?”
“It’s his photographer,” another fan says.
I shake my head.
“Chase is my boyfriend, actually.”
It’s like some cage buried deep inside me has just opened, and I’m allowed to fly.
I’m almost worried I might tear up, not from sadness but from raw joy, at saying that to someone for the first time.
He is mine, and I am his.
Isn’t it obvious?
I reach out and put my arm around his waist for the picture, and the look in his eyes just makes my heart soar again.
He didn’t expect me to say it.
Not in public, and not so soon.
And he’s looking at me like I just hung the stars.
“Oh my God, that is so cute!” a woman says. She turns to her friend and whispers, but not quiet enough that I can’t hear. “Brenna, I told you he was bi. Bisexuals always know, and I knew.”
It makes me smile.
We stop there for at least fifteen minutes, taking selfies and signing some autographs. And on the way home, Chase pulls me close, kissing me.
“I really liked that,” he says. “You didn’t have to do it, but I liked it.”
“I did too.”
When we get home, Chase turns to me with a thoughtful look in his eye before we get started making smoothies.
“I don’t want to just ignore what some people saw online about me,” he says. “I know the main awful post got taken down, but I’m sure a small amount of die-hard Logan Stone fans still think I’m that person. The person in the photo, holding pills.”
“Like you said, some people will always misunderstand things.”
He nods. “Yes. But I get to share my truth, too. I’m not going to post in response to that photo, but… I’m going to say something. About my past.”
I sit down with Chase over breakfast and he drafts out his next Instagram post.
In the days since my photoshoot went out, he’s been gaining tons of new followers, and I know this will be seen more than anything he’s ever posted.
A few hours later, he publishes it.
It’s a photo of him with his glasses on, hard at work while he lays a brushstroke onto an abstract painting.
The caption is simple.
Art has found me, over and over again, at the times in my life when I held the most anger, or pain, or isolation.
Sobriety, on the other hand, found me slowly. It’s taken years to get to where I am now, anywhere I feel like I have a voice in my own life, and the ability to choose how I want to spend it. In the past, I felt powerless. I no longer feel that way.
I’d be nowhere without the people who surround me. All proceeds from my photoshoot with Logan Stone will be donated to a mental health and addiction crisis center at the end of this month.
Thank you, to my new followers and friends.
I won’t let you down. And I can’t wait to share my art with you.
Chase Cameron
The second time I ever see Chase cry is after he posts it.
But it’s nothing like the way he looked when he was breaking down in the corner of his studio. This time, when a tear falls from his eye, he’s smiling at the same time.
He turns to me, wraps his arms around me, and exhales.
“There. It’s out in the world.”
I squeeze him close. “And the world’s not even close to ready for everything you have to offer it.”
He hums against me. “I said it before, and I’ll say it again. Maybe we should give ‘em full spread-ass shots next, huh?”
I puff out a laugh and he starts laughing too, both of us collapsing against each other’s bodies. “The fun thing about you is never knowing whether you’re serious about that. You want my hole all over the internet?”
“No fucking way, baby. That’s just for me.”