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His grip is firm, rougher than I’m used to, but it’s so fucking good. He knows how to touch me and it’s like his hand was made to fit around my cock.

We start moving together, stroking each other, breaths shallow and messy between us. We’re both still on our backs, side by side, but it feels like we’ve moved closer. Our heads both turned toward each other. Neither of us makes any indication to stop, completely ignoring the notion that this was just for lube. The way we’re touching each other now—this is about want.

The sound of slick skin, quiet gasps, the tension that’s been building between us finally breaking open—it’s all too much, and not enough. We both shift slightly so we’re even closer now, pressing together from ankle to shoulder, as we continue to stroke each other with fervor.

I can’t help the moan that falls from my lips—and his echoes mine. I don’t even know what’s hotter: touching him or hearing him fall apart from just my hand.

His forehead drops to my shoulder, his breath hot against my collarbone. I instinctively tighten my grip around him, and the noise he lets out makes my stomach clench, but I don’t want to come yet. I want to savor this moment for as long as I can stave off my orgasm.

“Fuck, Ryder. Oh, fuck,” he moans, his voice rough and wrecked like he doesn’t know what to do with any of this either. His teeth bite into my shoulder, and I let out the filthiest moan that’s ever left my mouth.

But he doesn’t stop.

Neither do I.

If I thought I was turned on earlier, it’s nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to the fire racing through me now.

My brain’s short-circuiting, caught somewhere betweenhow the hell is this realanddon’t you dare stop. Until very recently, I’ve always thought I was straight, and now I’mpositiveI’m not, and I’m positive one time with him will never be enough.I need more.The thought alone pulls a broken, needy sound from my throat I didn’t know I was capable of making, and it rivals the sound I made when he bit my shoulder. Nothing has ever felt this good and he’s just giving me a handjob.I’m totally fucked.

“Jesus, Ryder, you always sound like that?”

“Like what?” I manage to get out, my breath coming in short pants.

“Like you’re about to fall apart. Like you’re gonna come with my name on your lips.”

My hips jerk involuntarily at his words, heat pooling low in my stomach. Between his words and the sounds he’s making, I’m not going to last. The feeling is too overwhelming. The hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.

“Fuck, Logan. Yessss.”

My voice breaks on the last word as his hand moves faster, matching the desperate rhythm I’ve set on him. The slick glide of our hands and the breathless noises spilling from both of us is overwhelming, and I can tell we’re both close.

“Come,” Logan urges, his voice rough and low in my ear. “Come, Ry. Come for me.”

That’s it, I’m done. His commanding tone pushes me over the edge, and I come hard, a moan ripping through my throat. My hips are jerking as hot pulses spill across Logan’s hand, and he follows seconds later with a broken moan before I feel his release coat my hand.

That’s so hot.

For a moment, we just lay there with our hands still wrapped around each other, covered in each other’s release.At some point, we shifted further onto our sides so we could face each other fully, and I realize our foreheads are touching. I didn’t even notice how close we’d gotten, but now all I can think about is how our mouths are just inches apart.What would it feel like to reach out and capture his lips between mine?My heart hammers in my chest, and I can feel his racing just as fast, but instead of leaning forward, he drops his forehead to my shoulder, and I feel his hot breath against my skin.

His fingers flex like he wants to reach for more, but he’s holding himself back, and I don’t know what this means for us.

My body’s still buzzing, nerves lit up from the inside out in a way I’ve never experienced before.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs. “That was...fuck.”

I let out a little laugh over him breaking the tension, but all I can say is, “Yeah. Same.”

I finally release his softening dick and hope that’s not the last time I’ll ever touch him as I reach for the tissues on the nightstand. I hand a couple to Logan and clean myself off, too. His fingers brush against mine, and that tiny touch sends a jolt straight through me. We’ve touched a thousand times and it’s never had that effect on me—at least, not at this level of intensity.

He wipes himself off and tosses the tissue toward the small trash bin beside the bed, then lies on his back and hums quietly to himself like he’s still processing what just happened. When he finally shifts, it’s onto his side, propping his head up on one hand as he looks at me, really looks at me.

“You okay?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” I say quickly, and I can’t help but smile thinking about what we just did. “Yeah, I’m more than okay.”

It’s the bare minimum of how I feel. I want to tell him everything—how that didn’t feel weird or wrong. How it felt perfect. Right. Natural in a way nothing else ever has. How I’m one hundred percent sure I’m bisexual after that experience. But I don’t say anything because the second I open my mouth, I know I’ll spill more than I’m ready to say, and I still don’t know what this means for us yet.

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