Chapter 9 #2
“You know…” Logan tried to keep the breathless anticipation from his voice.
He’d tried his hand at seduction with John countless times, but somehow it was always John who gained the upper hand.
“You are a powerful man now, John Hakon.” He unhooked his fingers, running them lightly up John’s stomach and chest. “You can go wherever you want. Do whatever you want. Take whatever you want.” His hand closed around John’s shirt collar and yanked him down.
John’s hand slammed onto the table to keep from falling.
The cups rattled. Logan’s mouth remained only a breath away from John’s.
John nipped for Logan’s bottom lip, but Logan pulled back, just out of reach.
His eyes raised to meet John’s hungry gaze.
“What will be your first act, Captain?”
John yanked him to his feet and kissed him, mouth devouring, hands buried in Logan’s blond curls. They stumbled a few steps, and Logan’s bootheel caught on the wrinkled rug, bearing him to the floor with John atop him.
John’s tongue aggressively parted Logan’s lips and invaded his mouth. Logan couldn’t restrain the moan that passed between them. They’d always met each other with eagerness. Sometimes passion, sometimes simple appetite, but this was different. It felt as if John would consume him. Ravish him.
Desire surged down Logan’s spine, straight to his dick.
He’d never used to be like this. Never even flirted or realized he was being flirted with till John came into his life.
But something had fundamentally shifted in his world that day in the garden with John’s mouth on him, and every time John had touched him since.
Logan’s hand twisted in John’s shirt collar, dragging him closer.
He tried to flip John onto his back, but only managed to trap one of his legs between John’s powerful thighs.
John used his leverage to grind down once, then allowed Logan to roll him.
Logan landed against his chest, leg still trapped.
Logan whimpered around John’s plundering tongue, clinging to him, his real hand still balled up in John’s shirt, the wooden one pressed hard to his chest. Logan imagined he could feel the pounding heartbeat through the wooden palm and brass joints.
John’s own hand tightened in Logan’s hair, deepening their kiss as his other hand tore Logan’s shirt away from his shoulder. He wrenched Logan’s head to the side and nipped the newly exposed flesh.
“Captain,” Logan moaned. The title simply slipped out, and John’s cock practically doubled in size between them. He growled, ripping Logan’s shirt down the back then flipping Logan onto his back again, the delicate pastel wool chafing his skin.
John braced above him, hands pressed to the rug on either side of Logan’s head.
“Are you going to keep calling me that?” John asked, slightly breathless.
Logan palmed John’s cock through his pants, lips parted and inviting.
“You like it.”
John’s eyes slid closed, collecting himself, or maybe savoring the touch of the hand he’d created. He bent down, their noses brushing, lips tantalizingly close.
“What must I do to earn that title from you for real?” he rasped.
Logan never asked for what he wanted. Not directly. And especially not now, when all he wanted was to finally have John in his entirety.
Seeming to read this in his face, John’s brown eyes darkened further.
“Logan.” His hips rolled down to chafe his dick against Logan’s wooden palm.
“Do you remember the first time I took your cock into my mouth? How the flowers crushed beneath you and filled our noses with their scent?” He punctuated this question with a kiss, lingering only long enough to stifle Logan’s answer and leave him wanting.
“And do you remember when I first fucked your mouth? Stretched out your gorgeous lips that still tasted of Nia’s cunt as she rode you?
” He yanked Logan’s pants harshly down his hips, his cock bouncing free.
This time he left Logan’s lips untended, free to answer, though his head swam with dizzying memories.
“Y-yes…I remember,” he stuttered. He could practically smell the sun-warmed flowers, taste Nia’s sweetness on his tongue like nectar.
“You were so sweet.” John’s hand closed around Logan’s exposed cock, and Logan gasped, muscles going taut.
“So innocent. And under my hands your little virginal petals have fallen away one by one.” His brandy-laced breath invaded Logan’s senses, his hand stroking Logan’s cock almost lazily.
“But there’s one last petal of your flower for me to pluck, isn’t there? ”
“Y-yes, Captain,” Logan moaned.
John captured his lips in another hard kiss, his hand pumping Logan faster, spreading precum down the shaft. Logan arched into his touch, nervousness twining with pleasure. It was happening; John was finally going to fuck him.
John’s massive cock strained inside his pants. Logan’s throat tightened, imagining that girth stretching and filling him up and…
Logan whimpered rather pathetically. If he hadn’t let go of any sense of shame around such acts under John and Nia’s careful tutelage, he’d have been embarrassed at such a sound coming out of his mouth.
But it only spurred John on. His lips scorched a burning trail down Logan’s throat and collarbone.
His hand left Logan’s dick for only a moment to rip away the remains of his shirt and lave his tongue over Logan’s hard nipple.
When his lips reached Logan’s navel, he caught Logan’s gaze.
“Are you sure about this?” John asked quietly, his voice laden with heat.
“P-please, yes,” Logan answered, unable to disguise how far gone he was already, from a few simple touches.
He was met by a self-assured smile as John seized him around the waist and lifted him almost effortlessly into his arms. Logan yelped in surprise and wrapped his legs around John’s thick waist. They left the warm light of the stateroom behind as John carried him past the curtains into the shadows of the bedroom.
The wide bed was built into the ornate woodwork of the walls and cabinetry. It took up almost the entire bedroom space, framed by green brocade and sheer curtains and backed by a bank of leaded glass windows. Beyond the square panes, the sky had descended into velvety darkness.
John dumped Logan onto the bed, the mattress bouncing beneath him.
John dragged his shirt off over his head.
The half-moon outside provided no light from behind the clouds, and the sconces in the parlor backlit John where he stood at the edge of the bed.
Warm light wrapped around the edges of his body, accentuating his thick muscles, revealing the anchor and laurel symbol of the Marran navy tattooed on his left pectoral.
His face remained shadowed, obscuring his expression.
Before they’d begun this affair, Logan had always found John intimidating. And even now, some primal part in the back of Logan’s mind shivered as John stood over him, half naked and breathing hard, like the beast he was nicknamed after.
Logan sat up, trailing his hand down John’s broad chest, finding the line of hair beneath his navel and following it down to the waistband of his trousers.
He tugged at it, looking up to John’s shadowed face for help.
He could manage his own clothes one-handed now, but others didn’t have the same consideration in how they dressed.
John complied with Logan’s silent request, unfastening the front of his pants and shucking them off without breaking eye contact.
Logan’s gaze inadvertently flicked down to John’s cock, heavy and hard between his thighs.
His own cock twitched in response as he ran his fingers lightly down the length of John’s shaft, blood pulsing beneath his touch.
John’s eyes scorched him, and Logan licked his lips, anticipating the veins bulging against his tongue.
John caught Logan’s chin as his lips met the flushed cockhead. He tilted Logan’s head up, forcing Logan to look at him.
“I’m too impatient for all that,” he said gruffly. “I want to hurry up and split you open.”
Heat surged through Logan’s veins, as if the words had poured molten honey into them. He barely bit back an unwarranted moan, and John’s grip tightened on his jaw.
John moved first. He pushed Logan onto his back, grip moving from his jaw, down his throat to his collarbone, pinning him to the plush bed.
John leaned over him, his other hand retrieving a small vial of lube from a drawer inset into the base of the bed.
Logan’s breath caught as John uncorked it with his teeth, and instead of spreading it over his fingers, poured a generous amount onto the base of Logan’s cock, letting it dribble down his balls and over his hole.
John braced one knee on the edge of the bed, spreading Logan’s legs wider.
His finger teased Logan’s rim for just a moment before breaching him up to the knuckle, forcing a moan from his throat.
Normally they tried to keep their hookups quiet and discreet so their captains and crewmates wouldn’t suspect them.
But now John was his own captain, with his own ship, and it didn’t seem to matter anymore, not with John’s fingers inside him.
John pumped his finger gently a few times. The intrusion felt strange and new, yet with every stroke, Logan’s tense muscles began to relax into the sensation pooling low in his gut.
John curled his finger up, seeking the sweet spot that would heighten Logan’s pleasure.
Sparks burst behind Logan’s eyes as the pad of John’s finger circled it.
His back arched off the bed, and his legs widened ever so slightly, eager to take in more.
John’s shadowed lips turned up at the corners in a self-satisfied smirk.
He teased Logan’s prostate mercilessly, until Logan’s head swam with drunken euphoria and his breath came in short gasps.
The urge to beg tingled across Logan’s lips. He wanted—no—needed more.