42. Chase
Chase
As much as I’d wanted to take things to the next level with Logan last night, we both had too much on our minds.
Between the stress of the wedding, my parents, our jobs—or lack thereof—and trying to get back to Boston to catch an international flight today, the desire to get off took a backseat to more pressing matters.
Thankfully, the flight to Aruba was smooth and was spent slowly decompressing from the last several months.
The farther away we flew from the rain that was drenching Boston, the easier I could breathe, the broader my horizon became, and the more I realized that I could enjoy the next several days and work on figuring out our shit once we got back.
Time with Logan is what I need.
Time to just exist.
Time to smile and laugh, to play in the sun.
Time to revel in not having anywhere I have to be or anyone who needs something from me.
Time to try on this new version of life I’m adopting for myself.
The airport transfer bus drops us off at the hotel for check-in, and I start coming alive at the heat and humidity and the smell of the salty ocean on the breeze.
Yes, Boston is on the water, but the parts where I spend all my time smell like the city: exhaust fumes, food, hot trash. On this island, I can smell the seawater, and occasionally I get a hint of sunscreen and coconut.
Unlocking the door to our room, I let out a low whistle.
“Fuck Boston. Let’s live here,” I say, moving into the room.
Logan may have told them we were celebrating our honeymoon, and they may have upgraded us to a suite.
I didn’t call him out on the lie because, honestly, I feel like we’re both due for some kind of cosmic break, and these people were kind enough to oblige.
“Holy shit,” Logan says, coming through the door behind me. “Look at that view.”
I turn to see him staring at the sliding glass door that opens onto a private balcony overlooking the ocean.
“Looks like the perfect spot to get fucked,” I say honestly.
“You’re a mind reader,” Logan says with a grin.
“Among other things,” I say, throwing a wink at him before walking my toiletries into the bathroom.
Logan’s laugh bounces off the walls.
“Overconfident, much?” he calls from the room.
“Not overconfident…just confident enough,” I reply.
I’m setting my bottles up in the little cutout of the shower wall when suddenly, the water turns on, soaking me through my clothes.
“What the—”
“Care to wash the plane funk off and get this vacation started off right?” Logan asks, handing me a glass of something dark. He’s already naked, and my mouth waters at the sight, but it has nothing to do with whatever’s in the glass.
Logan’s cut physique is hard and perfect; his ink tells stories I get lost in every time I see them, and I’m left wondering how I ever managed to keep my hands off him.
“Where’d you get this? And what is it?” I ask, holding the liquid up to my nose, trying to pretend that I’m not affected by him. We’re here for five days. I need to pace myself.
“It’s rum,” he says, crowding me against the wall. “And this is an all-inclusive resort, so the liquor in our suite is included in our stay,” Logan explains, as his fingers work the button on my soaked jeans.
The sweet burn feels so fucking good as it slides down my throat.
The final latch holding my perfect plan for the perfect life flips open, releasing me from the expectations that have plagued me for so long.
Knowing that, at the end of the week, Logan and I will be going back to Boston where he doesn’t have a job, and I’m most likely getting kicked out of my residency program before I can voluntarily change to another, should scare the hell out of me.
And while I’m anxious to see what comes next, I’m not panicking.
Setting the glass into the little cubby next to my body wash bottle, I strip off my wet shirt and kick my jeans to the corner of the shower.
Logan leans in and licks a strip up the side of my neck. The feel of his wet skin sliding against mine has a groan tearing from my throat.
“What do you want, Chase?” he murmurs against my ear.
I know he means right now, sexually, in this shower, but my heart and mind have another answer.
“To build a life with you,” I say, causing him to pull back so he can see my face.
Instead of feeling vulnerable, the eye contact gives me the strength to keep going as I allow my hands to roam across his flesh.
“For so long I’ve thought that all the meaning in my life would—and was supposed to—come from being a surgeon.
Everything else was secondary, including my happiness.
I thought I just needed to cross the finish line and get established in practice, and suddenly everything would make sense.
But you’ve helped me realize that’s totally backward.
I need to find meaning and fulfillment in who I already am and where I am in life and let that drive what I do, how I spend my time, and with whom I spend it.
” I brush my hand down Logan’s chest, giving myself a minute to feel everything physically and emotionally.
I’m doing this.
With a man.
That I’m in love with.
As my hand trails farther down Logan’s body, his breath stutters.
“Chase, I’m happy to do this however you want and need to, but I’m hanging on by a thread over here,” he warns.
“I love seeing you come apart for me,” I tell him honestly.
“Can we move to the bed for that?” he asks, soaping up his body.
We’ve briefly touched on roles before, and both of us are open to either, but I see the need clearly written on his features. Logan wants to bury himself in my ass.
And I’m going to let him.
Nodding, I quickly wash myself, spending a little extra time on the areas I know he’s going to target.
We’re barely dry before he’s pulling me toward the bed. When he pushes me onto it, I expect him to climb on with me, but he pulls the curtains wide open, giving us an incredible view of the ocean and the blue sky. Then he walks back to his bag and pulls out a bottle and a small box.
“You came prepared,” I tease.
“I knew I wouldn’t be so good at holding back this time.”
Considering his erection could put a hole through the drywall right now, I’d say he’s right.
“Are the, uh, are the condoms necessary?” I ask, unsure if he brought them for my benefit or his.
“Only if you want them to be,” he answers.
I shake my head.
“I’d rather not use them if it’s all the same to you.” All I’ve wanted is a connection for so long. Something permanent. Something stable. Logan is all those things for me.
“Oh, thank God,” he says, tossing the box in the air.
I don’t see where it lands because Logan launches himself at me. Crawling over my body, he settles his knees on either side of my hips as he kisses me and rolls his hips into me, dragging his cock along mine.
“Fuck,” I moan, clinging to him, pulling him closer, matching his level of frantic need.
Logan licks and bites his way across my pecs. He spends a torturous amount of time at my hip bones, getting closer, but not landing where I want him.
“Logan,” I growl, trying to push his head toward my straining cock. “Please.”
“I’m going to come so fast, this is going to be terribly embarrassing,” he murmurs against my skin.
“No, it’ll be awesome,” I correct.
I guess because it knows something is coming for it, my asshole flutters in anticipation, clenching and relaxing like it’s impatiently waiting for his attention.
Logan sits up and flips open the lid of the lube, and I swear I die thirty-nine times while he tries to peel off that little metallic tab under the cap.
By the time he’s coating his fingers in the gel, I’ve got my feet planted on the bed, and I’m fucking the air.
“God, that’s hot,” he says, moving between my knees, pushing my feet wider. A second later, I feel the cool gel behind my balls, and the pressure from his finger over that spot makes stars dance behind my eyelids.
“Ohholyfuck,” I say in a rush. “More,” I demand, like the greedy, sex-starved bastard I am.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Logan says.
“I’m incapable of feeling pain right now,” I reassure him, making him laugh.
“I highly doubt that.”
“Mmmm,” I groan as he teases me.
Instinct takes over, and I pull my knees to my chest, not caring in the least that I am wantonly baring my asshole to him. If this makes it easier or somehow convinces him I’m ready, then so be it.
“Dammit, Chase. I’m trying to make sure you’re prepped,” he says, even as he lathers his cock with lube.
Victory.
Scooting forward on his knees, he brushes his cockhead across my hole.
“I didn’t even get to eat your ass,” he pouts as he slowly pushes inside me.
Reaching between my legs, my fingers dig into his thighs at the contact.
“Am I hurting you?” he asks.
“No. It’s just…” I trail off. Okay, maybe there’s a little pain. But it’s not really bad. Just different.
“Chase, talk to me,” Logan pleads, his voice full of concern.
“I’m fine. Please keep going.”
“It’ll get better, I promise,” he says.
“I know, baby.”
“I love it when you call me tha—oh fuck, Chase,” Logan groans as his cockhead slips past that first ring of muscle and my body begins pulling him inside.
Fireworks detonate in my chest, and I use my hands to push and pull at Logan, urging him to move.
“This is going to be over before it starts if you keep doing that,” he warns.
“We have five days,” I remind him.
“I’m not sure it’s going to be enough time,” Logan says, pulling his hips back, picking up speed as he drives into me again.
My back bows off the bed as I change my grip from Logan’s thighs to the underside of my own, shamelessly spreading myself wider.
Every sensation is new.
The fullness radiates from my ass to my stomach to my heart as Logan starts really slamming into me.
“You are the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Logan says, wrapping his right hand around my cock while bracing himself with his left hand on my shin. It doesn’t take long before his left hand moves to my chest as he works to get deeper inside my body.
The new angle causes his dick to strike my prostate, and I cry out at the pleasure that wracks my body.
“Again,” I whimper.
Logan obliges.
“Fuck. This ass, Chase. It’s so fucking tight. I can’t hold on much longer.”
“You won’t…need to…come…so good,” I pant, writhing beneath him.
God, the pleasure he’s drawing out of me has made me stupid. The fullness of feeling him everywhere is so unlike anything I’ve ever imagined.
His hand falters on my dick before he removes it completely, sitting up to grip the undersides of my thighs so he can really slam home.
“Oh God, I’m coming,” Logan says through gritted teeth.
And I fucking feel it.
I feel his dick pulse inside of me.
I feel his cum coat my channel, making it even easier for him to move.
I feel the warmth of it as he paints my insides.
My ass clenches, and before I can take over jerking myself off, my orgasm slams into me. Hands free. Wave after wave of pleasure is accompanied by more and more cum until it’s coating my stomach, pooling in my belly button and rolling down my side.
Logan collapses right into the mess a moment later.
“Jesus,” he breathes against my skin, his cock still inside me.
Utterly spent, I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, so I wrap my arms around Logan’s upper body instead and kiss his sweaty hair before dozing off in the comfort of my boyfriend’s strong arms.
Our lives may be a total dumpster fire right now, but down here in Aruba, we feel untouchable.