Chapter 47
CHAPTER 47
The bedroom was a sanctuary of muted light and soft shadows. The blinds were drawn against the outside world, but the faint glow of a streetlamp seeped through, slicing the darkness into perfectly spaced, golden lines that fell across the floor like whispers of light.
Ethan stood by the side of the bed, his boxers hung low on his hips, revealing the sharp V-lines that dipped below the waistband. There was a casual confidence in his stance, one hand resting against his side while the other raked through his already mussed-up hair.
When Logan entered the room, he hesitated by the door, filling the frame as his eyes swept over Ethan’s form. It wasn’t just desire that swirled in his chest, it was something deeper, a connection only they could share.
“You took your time,” Ethan teased, closing the space between them, as if testing how far they could go before breaking completely.
Logan’s lips twitched with a smile that carried its own weight. “I had to be sure,” he whispered, meeting Ethan halfway. His hands found their place on the younger man’s waist, fingers curling against his warm skin, grounding himself. His thumbs brushed beneath the waistband of Ethan’s shorts, a tentative touch that spoke volumes more than words ever could.
“And are you sure now?” Ethan’s breath hitched, his smirk faltering as his palms mapped Logan’s chest, touching his scars before he brushed his fingers against the dog tags around his neck.
Logan pulled Ethan close, their lips meeting after what felt like an eternity of waiting. The kiss was slower, more deliberate and consuming, but no less intense. His hands moved lower, cupping Ethan’s ass through the thin fabric of his shorts, and squeezed firmly, drawing a gasp.
As their hips aligned—hard-ons grinding against each other—the friction was electric. “Oh, man…” Logan breathed as their kiss broke apart. “I’ve thought about this… about you… for too many nights. Telling myself I couldn’t have it.”
“And now?” Ethan chuckled as he tilted his head and met Logan’s gaze. His fingers were toying with the waistband of Logan’s jeans, testing the boundaries they’d already decided to cross.
“I’m done fighting it,” Logan replied, tightening his grip on Ethan’s waist, claiming him.
For a moment, neither man moved; they simply stood there foreheads pressed together, trembling on the edge of something they couldn’t take back. Not that either of them wanted to.
Ethan broke first, moving quickly he tugged at Logan’s belt. The buckle clinked as it came undone and fell to the ground.
Logan didn’t wait, he kicked off his jeans and boxers in one smooth motion, standing bare before Ethan without a hint of hesitation or shame.
The streetlight outside painted his skin in soft golds and sharp shadows, highlighting every line of his body, every scar etched into his skin alongside the muscles honed by years of discipline.
Ethan’s gaze swept over him reverently, taking in every detail as if committing it to memory. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard and let out an unsteady breath. “Jeez…” he murmured under his breath, his chest rising before settling again.
“And you’re sure about this?” Logan asked one more time because even now—even after everything—he needed to hear it again.
“Will you just shut the hell up and kiss me,” Ethan teased with a grin before pulling Logan down onto the bed with him.
They tumbled onto the mattress together in an ungraceful heap of limbs and laughter that quickly gave way to something far more serious. Logan settled on top of Ethan, his weight pressing him into the sheets—not crushing but anchoring him to the moment.
Logan’s breath was hot against Ethan’s neck, and the tension that coiled between them was unbearable. It finally unraveled, and he shifted his weight slightly, still keeping Ethan pinned down. “Fuck…” he muttered, as their hips pressed together. “You feel incredible.”
Ethan exhaled, a soft, unguarded moan escaping as their bodies aligned perfectly. His hands moved instinctively to grip Logan’s shoulders, fingers digging into firm muscles as if to confirm this was real.
Before he could respond, Logan captured his mouth in a kiss. It had none of the restraint of earlier and anything but gentle. It was messy and desperate and yet… perfect all at once. Their tongues tangled as if trying to communicate everything they hadn’t dared to say before.
Their legs intertwined like roots seeking purchase, tying them together in ways neither fully understood but both accepted without question.
The world outside simply faded away until there was nothing left but just them.
Logan’s hands roamed freely, mapping every inch of Ethan with reverent precision. His fingers brushing gently over the bruises with heartbreaking tenderness, tracing the edges and committing them to memory. “I’m sorry,” he spoke softly, pressing his forehead to Ethan’s shoulder with a shaky exhale. “I should’ve gotten here sooner. I should have protected you.”
Ethan’s chest tightened at the display of raw emotion, and tilting Logan’s face up with gentle fingers beneath his chin, he met his gaze. “You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”
Logan didn’t respond, he just stared at Ethan with an intensity that pinned him in place, the kind of look that stripped away all the pretense and left nothing but honesty between them.
Leaning down, he slowly brushed his lips over Ethan’s collarbone in a gesture so tender it nearly undid him. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered. “And the way you looked at me in that briefing room that first day you arrived,” he admitted, like a secret he’d carried too long. “That’s when I knew I was in trouble.”
There was a vulnerability in Logan’s expression that made Ethan ache in so many ways. The way he allowed himself to be seen so completely, without walls. He blinked, then laughed—a bright, unexpected sound that shattered the tension. “Or do you mean when I spilled coffee all over you?”
“Yeah, that too.” Logan’s mouth quirked up at the corners.
Whatever Ethan might have replied dissolved in an instant as Logan’s mouth traced a slow path up his neck. The sensation sent a bolt of pleasure coursing through him, and he arched into the touch, fingers clutching Logan’s shoulders like lifelines.
Each kiss was more than a touch, it felt like a tiny declaration written across his body. This is real. This is us.
The sheets rustled, and the bed frame creaked softly. The wrecked apartment with its broken furniture dissolved into irrelevance as they lost themselves in each other.
Devon, the fight… none of that mattered, not now they had this.
Outside these walls lay rules and regulations—lines they weren’t supposed to cross—and it wasn’t about forgetting those things, it was about holding on to each other amidst everything else.
“I don’t know how we come back from this,” Logan breathed between kisses.
Ethan stilled briefly, tightening his grip on Logan’s arms as if afraid this moment might slip away if he didn’t hold on tightly enough. “We don’t go back,” he said, cupping Logan’s face, and soothing his cheek with his thumb. “We only go forward.”
And in that moment—amidst broken furniture and unspoken fears—Logan knew he wouldn’t regret this decision. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not ever.