I hand Logan the paper when he gets close enough. There’s a second registration for the Alexander Group on the hangar log. Weeks after the attack, the same day that we got drunk and…
I start to breathe faster, my heart racing so quickly that I can hear it ringing in my ears. I close my eyes to help myself calm down as I concentrate on breathing in and out.
“Come on.” I open my eyes to an outstretched hand. My eyes dart to Logan’s face, but he only nods down to his hand. I take it and in two seconds, I’m on my feet and being dragged to the bar. Without saying a word, Logan fixes us a quick drink.
“Nothing heavy, Logan. We’ve got to keep a clear head.” And I don’t want a repeat of the last time we had a drink together. The last time we came face to face with The Judge.
He hands me a shot of something clear and I drink it down in record time. I ignore the burn as it slides down my throat.
I study Logan as he finishes his shot and I can’t help but wonder what’s different about him. The hard lines of his face are still there, but they’ve seemed to soften a little. And I swear when we were outside the plane, when he whispered in my ear, clutching my shirt, he was close to kissing me. I could practically feel his heart uncontrollably beating as his chest was pressed into my own.
He wouldn’t make eye contact.
He was nervous and twitchy.
He bit his fucking lip, for Christ’s sake.
Not to mention his hit and miss behavior when he saw me with that kid earlier.
Something happened to Logan in our absence from one another and it’s screwing with my head. The fucked-up part about it is, I don’t care. He can push me away more, pull me in with a glance, and as usual, I’ll give in and come running. The harsh words of our last private encounter are still running rampant in my head, ping-ponging around. But my heart chooses to ignore what my head wants in favor of any kind of attention from him.
I hand him my shot glass and he places them in the sink behind him. He walks around the counter rubbing his head and looking somewhat conflicted.
“Thanks, I needed –” I’m cut off when a bit of turbulence rocks the plane and I go flying into his chest. He holds onto my upper arms and steadies me. His stare holds firmly to my own. “Th-thanks.”
“Yeah,” he replies on a breath. A warm, tequila-scented, breath.
I don’t move an inch and when I feel his fingers tighten around my arms, I close my eyes, bite my lip, and ball my fists up. This game he’s playing is taking a harder toll on me than I want and as much as I tell myself that it doesn’t, as much as I fool my head into thinking it’s not a big deal, this right here, right now, is my head telling my heart, ‘fooled you!’
I open my eyes and take a deep breath in. “Logan.”
I can hear the ache in my voice. The longing for a man who gets off on stringing me along like a plaything.
“Tell me earlier was just a one-time thing. Tell me it didn’t mean anything. Just tell me that kid wasn’t part of your present or future.”
“And what if I tell you otherwise?”
“Cameron, please don’t fuck with me right now.” His voice rumbles in a low growl and I feel my dick twitch, even more so when I see his throat bob.
“The kid – whose name is not really Logan – was a one-time thing,” I grit out.
“But you –”
“Until you came along, we gave each other fake names so we wouldn’t get attached. Grindr is more of a midnight snack than a luxury, five-course meal. I needed to blow off steam after three hours with Locke and why the hell am I explaining myself to you?”
I shake myself free and I feel like I can finally breathe. There’s nothing simple when it comes to Logan touching me. I can’t think straight, I can’t breathe, and words fumble out of my mouth like word vomit. I need space from him right now. He can finish going through the paperwork on his own.
I step aside and head to the back of the plane where the bedroom is. Luckily, Logan doesn’t follow me as I slip past the door and shut it with a small click.
Jesus, Cameron is fucking with me more than I realize. Between the respite I feel of knowing that what I walked into this morning was nothing more than a fling, and the utter sense of loss and longing when I see him walking away, I have no clue where I stand with him.
It takes me a second before my legs walk me to the closed bedroom door. I yank it open and close it just as fast. Cameron is lying on the bed, an arm over his eyes, his other hand resting on his stomach, and a leg propped up.
“Logan, I’ve got a headache. Can you please give me two minutes?”
I fold my arms across my chest and look down. “You know, lately everyone keeps telling me I should just admit to these games my head keeps playing with my body. Lindsay, Levi, Grayson and Finn, everyone. It’s fucking with me, Cameron. Because I still have this war going on in my heart. But then I see you and it’s like, ‘Oh, right. It’s Cameron.’ And the more I tell myself that something with you would be so wrong, I have this other side telling me that it would be perfectly right. And I’ve got to tell you, Cam, that side is winning. I promised myself that I would wait until all this is over until I even tried to make a move for you, but do you know how fucking hard that is?”
I stand at the foot of the bed, staring at Cam as I spill out my confession. I’m not good with these girly, feely things. I don’t do share time and feeling open like I do now, it’s not something I’m comfortable with. He lets out a sigh and rolls onto his left side, away from me. If anything, I didn’t expect to feel this hurtful pang in my chest.
“You lying down with me or what?”
I shed my shoes and crawl onto the bed, leaving a good foot of space between us as I lie on my side and face the back of his head.
“For shit’s sake, Logan!” He scoots toward me until he perfectly aligns his body – every bend and crook – into my own. I feel my breathing speeding up, even more, when I hear the sexiest growl come from him. I try to shuffle back because he’s about to feel exactly what that growl does to me. And sober, I’m not sure how ready I am for that.
“You know, anyone tell you that you really suck at this flirting thing?” He reaches back and grabs my hand and moves around until my arm is flung around his chest, his back hugging my chest, my legs are parallel to his, and my now hard dick rests very uncomfortably behind my jeans and against his ass.
I’m dazed, utterly dazed that even this is happening. My chest rises and falls a bit quicker than moments ago, and my hand, firmly flush against his chest, aches to rub the hard muscle below it. I try to convince myself that what we’re doing right now is enough, but when he presses his hand into mine, linking our fingers, I can’t help but slowly caress him and give in to just a little bit more.
I let him make the first moves. Our first exchanges not driven by alcohol, but from lust. I need him to show me he wants it, not just tell me. He knows I want him, but he doesn’t know that in this very second, I crave him. Like a new addiction I can’t get my fix of quickly enough.
I trace small circles with my fingertips across his chest until he takes over. Suddenly, I’m under his shirt, and it’s my hand on his bare chest. I try to muffle the throaty sound that forces its way past my lips, but it comes out and I swear his ass jerks into my dick. Still, he doesn’t turn around. As my hand learns every groove and dip of Cameron’s chest, my head gently falls to his back. I silently thank the Gods for any contact I’m allowed with him, a contact I need more than my next breath.
He starts to push my hand down his chest until I’m splayed over his abs. I lightly fan my fingers over each rippled muscle. I don’t even realize that his hand leaves mine until I feel it grab my ass, pulling me closer, and making me hiss the second my restrained dick grinds into him.
“Oh, shit,” I groan, my voice muffled against his back.
Cameron’s other hand pushes mine lower until I give in and cup the bulge between his thighs. But then he swats my hand away, and I yelp in protest. He twists his body around so that we’re face to face. The look on his face drives me crazy at how aroused he is. Almost a forbidden lust that if I look too long, I’ll curse us both. He reaches for my belt and works it open before unbuttoning the snap of my jeans. At the same time, I get his open, but I leave it at that. This is his game, his rules, and I’m a willing player.
“Take it out for me, Logan.” He nods to my dick. God, even something as simple as those six little words makes my heart race faster and my hands tremble. I do as he says and I’m rewarded with the firmest, warmest hand snaking around me. He slowly slides up and down while I close my eyes and enjoy the ride.
Cameron’s thumb gently circles the head of my dick, massaging in the pre-come. I feel so damn high as I fuck Cam’s hand, basking in the feel of his rough hands making me lose my goddamn mind.
“Hold on a second.” I open my eyes when his hand goes away but its only for a moment and his own dick is in his hands as well.
I push an arm under his head like a pillow and wrap my fingers around his neck; the other holds onto his shoulder as I anchor myself to him. I bite back a cry as his hand comes around both of us, pumping us simultaneously. My eyes start to close again but Cam calls my name.
“Look into my eyes, Logan. Don’t look away.” I quickly nod, holding on to Cam tighter as I bring his scruffy face closer to mine.
Our lips float over each other. I need to feel more of me on him but something about that closeness, the illicit kiss that seals our fate of this encounter – this tryst – this…whatever, feels like it would ruin this very moment we’ve worked for. I like the feeling of hovering over the edge. Taking me to the brink just to pull me back.
Our breathing speeds up the more his fuckable hand encircles us, but we never break eye contact. We don’t kiss, only sharing our labored breath until I feel my jaw clench shut. My hand joins his and I breathe through my release, grunting out behind a closed mouth as I spill over both of us. In a matter of seconds, Cameron’s eyes fight to stay open as his orgasm shatters over us.
My hands come up and I frame his face despite the mess I’ve just made. His find mine and we keep our eyes locked on to each other as we fight to catch our breath. No words spoken, nothing other than a simple breath penetrates the air around us. I can’t bring myself to kiss him or look away from the man. That is until our foreheads come together and our lips curve into a private smile.
Even as we finally begin to feel an ounce of normalcy, we don’t move from the bed. We stay so close together, so wrapped up in each other that despite the numbness settling in my arm, I’m content.
So, fucking happy that I ignore the familiar feeling I felt that first night we were together, the one where my brain awakens and tells me that what we’re doing is wrong.