“GET OVER HERE.” As Tate’s order hit Logan’s ears, the only thought running through his head was, Try and stop me. But Tate wasn’t waiting for him to obey tonight. He grabbed hold of Logan’s hand, tugged him to the other side of the column where the shadows were at play, and then spun him around so Logan was staring at the floor-to-ceiling pillar.

Tate’s body was an immediate presence behind him, as his hands found Logan’s waist and pulled him back into the wall of muscle that was going to, please God, hold him prisoner against the solid surface.

One of Tate’s hands moved around to the buckle of his belt, and as it did his mouth came down to Logan’s ear, and the feel of his breath against it made a shiver of anticipation race up his spine.

“I’m so fucking hard for you right now,” Tate said, and Logan shut his eyes, sending up a quick prayer he wouldn’t come before he at least had Tate’s hands on his naked skin. “And I haven’t even gotten your belt undone yet.”

Jesus, you and me both, Logan thought, as he heard his buckle release and ground his ass back against the solid erection Tate was referring to.

Fuck, he wanted that in him. He wanted his pants around his ankles, Tate’s fingers digging into his hips, and that thick cock tunneling in him hard, fast, and out of control.

He blindly reached for the hand Tate was now using to unbutton and unzip him, and when Logan found it, he guided it inside his open pants, behind the material of his briefs, and then—“Ahh, hell yes”—he curled his hand over the top of Tate’s where he most wanted it—on his aching dick.

Tate’s chuckle was arrogant as all hell, and the strong, solid strokes he began had Logan’s hips punching forward to fuck the fist working him.

“That what you want?” Tate said by his ear, and Logan’s hand left his briefs to come out and grab at Tate’s thigh for something to hang on to.

“Fuck yes, it is,” he said, as Tate twisted his hand around the tip of his cock and Logan thrust into the touch. He bit his lip as he continued to rock his hips, Tate’s hand providing the perfect amount of friction to torment but not quite get him there.

“So needy.” Tate’s low rumble sent a thrill down Logan’s spine as he remembered their earlier conversation in the elevator. “So easy when it comes to me. You’re right, that is hot. And I love it. You have no idea how much. But you will soon.”

Logan groaned, and Tate laughed again in his ear, and that confidence, that attitude Tate was throwing off, was making this impossibly hotter.

“So…what’s next, do you think?” Tate asked. “We can’t just stand here like this all night.” Tate stopped moving his hand, and Logan clenched his fingers in Tate’s jeans.

“Hell. Don’t stop.”

“Then answer my question.” Tate’s demand had Logan’s dick throbbing. Bossy fuck is gonna make me come by just ordering me around.

“Come on, Logan.” Tate’s teeth nipped at the shell of his ear, and Logan’s jaw bunched. “I’ll do anything. But I wanna hear you ask for it.”

“Fuck.”

Tate stroked down to the root of Logan’s cock and squeezed. “Start talking and we will.”

Logan shut his eyes and tried to calm his racing pulse. But that was no use when Tate’s hand was wrapped around him and his breath was floating over his skin. God, where to start…where to start? “Take my goddamn pants off.”

Tate’s grunt of approval made any blood left in Logan’s brain race directly south. Then Tate’s fingers were in either side of his slacks, yanking them, and his briefs, over his ass to his thighs.

As the night air hit Logan’s bare skin, Tate shoved him forward two steps and said in his ear, “Hands up. Legs spread. As wide as these pants of yours will let you get ’em.”

Logan placed his palms against the cool concrete of the pillar and widened his stance. Tate then crowded in behind him, and the rough denim grazed Logan’s naked ass as he planted a hand by either side of the ones Logan had on the column.

Breathe, Logan told himself. Shut your eyes and breathe or this is going to be over before it starts. He was pretty close to congratulating himself for getting it together under the circumstances, but then, of course, Tate shattered it with one filthy fucking comment.

“Mmm.” Tate smoothed a palm over the rounded curve of Logan’s ass. “It’s gonna be a real tight fit in here tonight.”

Holy. Shit. This was about to get out of hand real fast, and Tate knew exactly what his dirty talk did to Logan’s peace of mind.

“So…what’s next?” Tate asked, and Logan couldn’t stop himself from bucking back against him, needing some kind of contact.

“Maybe I just want to rub against you.” The teasing taunt slipped past Logan’s lips before he thought better of it, and Tate, being in the mood he was in, wasn’t about to let him get away with it. With surprising strength, Tate put all his muscle behind shoving him forward until his arms gave way and his cheek, chest, and erect cock were pressed up against the unyielding surface of the pillar.

“You mean like this?” Tate asked, as he began to roll his hips, grinding his erection up and down Logan’s crack until he was desperate. He wanted to beg Tate to spread him wide, unzip those jeans he still wore, and tunnel inside of him, right fucking now.

But he didn’t, and Tate—the teasing motherfucker—continued to dry-hump him until Logan’s eyes almost rolled to the back of his head and he gave in and demanded, “Get rid of your fucking jeans, Tate. Jesus Christ.” Tate’s lips grazed the back of his neck, and Logan growled, “Now.”

Tate’s body left his in an instant, and Logan heard the rustling sound of clothes being removed echo off the walls, then, hell yes, the sound of a packet being ripped open followed, and Logan lowered a hand between his legs and began to pump his cock.

It didn’t take but a few seconds or so, and then Tate was back, wedging his lubed dick right where Logan wanted it most. And when Tate’s palms came up on either side of him, caging Logan in where he stood, Logan groaned.

Finally. Skin on fucking skin.

* * *

THE SOUND THAT left Logan’s throat as Tate’s cock left a slippery path along the dark crevice of his ass was nothing short of desperate. With one hand braced on the pillar, and his pants pulled down around his thighs, Logan made a sinful invitation as he worked his rigid shaft—one that Tate planned to take full advantage of.

The distorted glow of the spotlight caused shapes and outlines to dance on the interior walls, but they were far enough away from the windows that Tate wasn’t concerned in the slightest that anyone could see them.

His cock was leaving its mark all over Logan’s backside as Tate moved as though he was already inside him. He was as hard as the pillar, and by the time he got through with Logan, Tate planned to have him begging for a good fucking.

“Damn, Logan,” Tate said as he ran his fingers through the pre-cum he’d left all over Logan’s skin, making him shudder.

“In me…” Logan said on a rush of air. “God… Put something the fuck in me.”

Tate slipped his slick fingers down the heated skin of Logan’s narrow cleft, and when the pads of his fingers found his hole and massaged over the top of it, Logan cursed.

“Oh hell yes,” Tate said, and put his mouth by Logan’s ear. “Gotta say, I’m loving the acoustics up here. My name’s gonna sound real sweet bouncing off the walls of your new office, Mr. Mitchell. Don’t you think?”

Tate then pushed a finger in nice and deep, the way Logan loved it, and when his head fell forward and his shoulders bunched, Tate’s cock throbbed. There was something insanely hot about seeing Logan so strung out while still wearing his suit jacket and tie. “Yeah, Logan. Go crazy for me. I wanna watch,” he said as he withdrew his index finger and then slid it back inside.

“Tate,” Logan growled as Tate added a second to the mix, rubbing and pushing at the entrance he was stretching.

“Ask me for it.” At his words, Logan turned his head, and Tate saw that his pupils were blown and his teeth clenched. He’s real close now. “I want to hear you. Ask me, Logan.”

Tate added a slight pressure to his hole, and Logan’s breath rushed out.

“I’m going to kill you.”

“No, you’re not,” Tate said as his fingertips entered Logan. “Now come on…” he said, and twisted his hand. “Beg me for it.”

“You goddamn sadist. If you don’t hurry up and fuck me with something, I—”

That was as far as Logan got, because as far as begging went, that demand was music to Tate’s ears, and he was right there as promised, ready to grant Logan his wish.

* * *

LOGAN DIDN’T CARE what Tate planned to put in him first, his fingers or his cock. He. Didn’t. Care.

All he knew in that moment was that he wanted his ass filled and he wanted to come. And as he demanded just that, Tate thrust two fingers into him and Logan arched back, pushing his cock through his fist as the intense pleasure of having something in him hit. Tate then pulled those fingers free, and when a third joined in to massage over Logan’s prostate, he clamped a tight fist around the base of his cock. “Fuck.”

Tate’s mouth found his neck then, and as he dragged his tongue up the line of it and bit down, his cock bumped against Logan’s ass cheek as he continued to slowly and methodically stretch him, bringing Logan to the brink time and time again.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard,” Tate said against his cheek as he pulled his fingers free, and Logan’s hole clenched at the loss, wanting—needing—exactly that. Then he felt a hand on the back of his neck.

“You might want to brace yourself,” Tate suggested, and then gave Logan a rough shove forward, and hell if that didn’t turn Logan on even more as he quickly brought his left hand up to support himself against the pillar.

“That’s it,” Tate said as his other fingers dug into Logan’s hip and then the head of his cock nudged against his pucker. “Now, Logan. Say it.”

And nothing could’ve stopped the words from flying free of Logan’s mouth then. “Fuck me, Tate. You—”

Tate was balls deep inside him before Logan even finished his demand, and the delicious burn that accompanied the force of his thrust had Tate’s name ripping from Logan’s lips and echoing around them, just as Tate had predicted.

The hand at the back of Logan’s neck tightened, and shit, who knew that being forcefully held in place would be such a damn turn-on as Tate withdrew, and then jammed his hips forward, drilling into him.

Christ. The strength of that thrust had Logan stumbling slightly, but Tate was right there, his hand moving to Logan’s shoulder to haul him back so that his spine was flush against Tate’s chest and his hole was swallowing his dick.

“Ahh… Goddamn, that’s…” Logan’s voice cracked and then left him, as Tate’s arm wound around his waist to take hold of his cock.

“Deep. I’m so fucking deep, and your ass is so tight.” Tate stroked his fist up to the head of Logan’s dick, and Logan groaned at then intense pleasure that racked his body as it clenched around the thick shaft.

“Any final requests?” Tate asked, and Logan’s chest heaved at the ragged tone of his voice. Tate sounded like a man who was a hair away from losing his shit, and fuck, he wanted that.

As that thought hit his brain, Logan was reminded of Saturday in the bar and that possessive look in Tate’s eyes when he’d seen the mark on his neck, and yes, he had a final request, all right. “Bite me.”

Tate’s eyes narrowed, and when he bent his head, clearly going for Logan’s ear, Logan jerked his head to the side, locked eyes with him, and panted. “Not like that.”

“No?” Tate said, and the molten heat in his eyes told Logan that Tate knew exactly what he wanted. He was just fucking with him. Pushing him. And finally, Logan reached back, grabbed a fistful of that taunting fucker’s hair, and yanked his mouth to his.

“No,” Logan growled, his control and patience finally snapping. “I want to feel your teeth through my shirt, marking me while you fuck me until I can’t walk.”

The fist around Logan’s cock close to strangled it, and Tate gave it a rough pull as his hips surged forward. Then Logan found himself plastered against the pillar with his arms drawn up over his head, Tate’s hand holding them in place, as he tugged aside the collar of Logan’s jacket and drove inside of him.

There was nothing gentle about what happened next, as Tate grabbed Logan’s hip to hold him still and he began to fuck into him time and time again.

Next came the teeth on his shoulder, and they were sharp and stung in a way that made Logan’s blood hum, and as he grunted and struggled against the hold Tate used on him, Logan reveled in the brute force Tate exerted to keep him where he wanted him as he took and took and fucking took.

“Ah fuck…fuck,” Logan said, his voice failing him, as Tate’s fingernails bit into his wrists.

“Give me your tongue,” Tate said, and Logan’s head turned in an instant so Tate’s mouth could find his, and then Logan went wild.

His hands twisted and clawed above him, trying to get leverage on the column so he could shove back harder on Tate, wanting more—always more—until Tate’s fingers laced with his and pinned them in place.

The hot throb of Tate’s cock pulsed inside of him, and Logan shut his eyes, trying to rein in that greedy, dark side of himself that reveled in being so thoroughly fucked. But it was no use. The leash was gone. All his decorum shredded to shit. And all Logan could think about was how badly he wanted to come. And what he’d do to get it.

“Move,” he said between clenched teeth, and when Tate held his stare but remained still, goading him to act, Logan did the only thing he could think of to get Tate to move: he whipped his head to the other side and sank his teeth into Tate’s bicep—hard.

Tate cursed so loudly it made Logan’s ears ring, but then he released Logan’s hands, grabbed his hips, and said in his ear, “You fucking savage,” and let him have it.

* * *

TATE’S ARM STUNG where Logan had just bit him, and as he held on to Logan’s hips, he relished the feeling.

Logan had snapped right around the moment Tate had shoved him against the pillar by the back of his neck, and now? Now Logan was going out of his fucking mind.

With his hands on the column and his legs barely parted due to the confines of his pants, Logan’s hot hole was a challenge Tate was enjoying getting his dick in and out of. He couldn’t seem to temper his own fevered response to the way Logan was reacting to him, and hell if he wanted to.

“Yes. Jesus. Harder, Tate. Fucking harder.” Logan’s words were clipped, his movements now methodical as his hand moved in time with his pistoning hips as he ruthlessly chased after the climax building in him.

The grunts that were echoing throughout the floor were accompanied by curses and threats that made Tate’s lips curl and his balls tingle. He’d always loved a good argument with Logan, and enjoyed the fight for dominance between them during sex. And hell if he wasn’t about to bask in the satisfaction he was about to take in filling Logan’s ass in the most primal way he could.

With one hand on Logan’s hip, Tate raised his other to grip the back of Logan’s neck again, and the second he did, Logan started to beg. Deeper, harder, more, now—Logan wanted anything Tate was willing to give, and, luckily for him, tonight, that was everything.

He wasn’t sure how long it took the two of them then. Minutes? Seconds? Tate had no clue. It was as though time stopped as every nerve ending in his body lit on fire. Then Logan shouted his name, and Tate detonated.

A harsh growl left his throat as Logan’s entire body arched back into him. Tate heard his name leave Logan’s lips as his ass clamped on to his dick, as though it would never let it leave, and then he came all the fuck over the concrete pillar.

Well, Tate thought, as he stood there with his arm wrapped around Logan’s neck and his cock still lodged inside of him. Logan had definitely claimed his new office.