Tate panted. “Love how you feel behind me.”

Logan released the hold he had on him and placed his hands on either side of Tate’s waist. He then ghosted them over his hips as Tate reached down to continue pleasuring himself.

“That makes me real happy to hear, Tate, ’cause you’re about to feel a whole lot more of me behind you.”

Logan began to rub himself over Tate’s crack, and then he zeroed in on the image in front of them. He dipped his knees slightly, and when he saw the plump, wet head of his dick come into view between Tate’s thighs, Logan gnashed his teeth together to hold back the roar he felt building. Oh fuck, that’s hot, he thought as he repeated the sweet glide and felt Tate’s balls against the top of his cock.

“You know what’s about to happen here, right?” he rasped, running his slick fingers down Tate’s crack to probe his tight opening. He could see Tate’s chest rise and fall as he continued to jerk himself off, and Logan pushed the tip of his finger inside him.

“Yeah…” Tate managed, though the answer was so low that Logan was thankful for the mirror so he could read his lips.

“I’m going to slide inside you. Right here. And you’re going to watch.”

Tate’s eyes were full of lustful challenge as he leaned toward the mirror, propped his arm up for support, and then bucked his hips back onto Logan’s hand. When his finger grazed over Tate’s prostate, Logan saw him grit his teeth and took the opportunity to enter him with two.

“Fuck…” Tate growled, and his head fell forward as Logan pushed his fingers all the way in so his palm was flat against the crease of his ass.

“Yeah, Tate. God, you’re tight.”

Tate lifted his eyes to meet his then, and the dark desire in them had all of Logan’s words skidding to a stop.

“I want it,” Tate said, his voice husky.

“You want—”

“This,” he demanded, using the hand he’d been stroking himself with to reach between his legs and touch the wet slit of Logan’s cock.

Logan’s breathing faltered as he removed his fingers, grabbed the lube, and took a hold of Tate’s ass. He poured some cool liquid between Tate’s spread cheeks then glanced down to look at what he wanted. Once he’d lined the tip of his erection up with the hole beckoning him, he raised his eyes to see Tate tasting the pre-come coating his fingertips.

Dirty fucker. Could he have found anyone more perfect for him? The answer was simple—hell fucking no. With that thought ringing through his ears, Logan dug his fingers into Tate’s flesh and slowly pushed inside.

“Christ…Logan…” Tate moaned as inch by delicious fucking inch he slid in farther.

Logan lowered his head and sank his teeth into Tate’s shoulder, muffling his own raw groan. He felt a streak so fucking possessive rip through him and wondered where it’d come from. He knew he loved Tate, that he wanted to be with and take care of him. But as he stood there with him like this—so open, so trusting in their connection—Logan had an intense need to make it known that he was his—and vice versa.

He could see a bead of sweat trickle down his own temple as he stared at their reflections. Then he smoothed a hand around to the one Tate had working his cock and instructed, “Brace yourself.”

Tate didn’t think it was possible to dig his fingers any harder into the surface under them, but when Logan grabbed his hips and withdrew out of his ass only to slam back home—his fingers almost broke trying to keep himself upright. The unholy curse that ripped from Logan had Tate finding his eyes in the mirror, and the sight he saw just about made his knees buckle.

Logan’s hair was plastered to his forehead, and the sweat running down his cheek made Tate want to taste it with his tongue. He soon shoved that thought aside though, as Logan’s fingers flexed into the sides of his hips and he started to roll them.

The pace was intense as Logan drilled into him, and every time he bottomed out, Tate would hear a sound full of sublime ecstasy tear from him that made his cock pound. The man behind him—and what a man he is—owned him in that moment. He was not leaving any doubt about that.

Logan’s eyes were locked on his, and his powerful jaw was clenched as the hand at the back of Tate’s neck squeezed and pulled him up straight, aligning their bodies—head to toe.

As he rested back against him, Logan stilled his cock inside him, biting the curve of his neck and shoulder. Tate’s hips arched, and he felt Logan jut his hips forward to get deeper.

“I don’t think you know,” Logan whispered in his ear, “just how hard I want to take you…”

“Do it,” he urged, wanting Logan to lose control with him—wanting to see that.

“God, I want to.”

“Yes,” Tate hissed, his ass pulsating in a hot throb around the wide intrusion. “I want you to.”

In a voice he barely recognized, he heard Logan say, “The bed, Tate. Go and lie across it.”

Tate could feel his breathing coming hard as Logan pulled out of him and stepped aside to let him pass.

That was when he heard him say, “I can’t wait to come inside you and watch you take it all.”

Tate was so fucking aroused. Between Logan kissing him, biting him, and promising the hottest fuck of his life, he wasn’t sure he could remember his own damn name.

He walked around to the side of the bed and lay down across the king-sized mattress so he could see himself in the mirror along the vanity.

Logan came around to where his legs were hanging over the edge and moved in between, nudging his thighs apart. Fully erect, he looked like some kind of sexual god come to tempt mere mortals, and Tate sure as hell was tempted. He’d been tempted ever since he’d dared him to try, and now, as Logan stood there, he was fucking thankful he’d given in.

“You’re looking really fucking good, Tate,” Logan said as he trailed his eyes over him.

Tate reached down to rub himself, trying to ease the ache that was now a constant throb between his legs.

“Put your feet up on the edge of the bed.”

Breathing was becoming more of a challenge with every word out of Logan’s mouth, but it was when he lowered down to his knees beside the bed that Tate thought he would stop breathing altogether. Quickly, he reached to the side for one of the small pillows at the head of the mattress. He shoved it behind his head, trying to see, but then he realized he didn’t need that—he had the mirror.

Throwing the pillow out of his way, he laid his head flat on the mattress and turned just in time to see Logan’s muscled thighs bunch as he knelt by the bedside. The hard cock that had been inside him only minutes ago was fully engorged and visible, and as Tate’s eyes shifted farther up his body, he found his own bent leg in the way of his view and lowered it.

He wanted to see everything, and as he watched, Logan turned his head to the vanity and caught him spying. One of his dark eyebrows rose as if to say, Caught ya, and he reached forward, grabbed his thighs, and hauled him to the edge of the bed. The smile that stretched across Logan’s mouth then was filthy as fuck, and when Tate arched his hips in response, his foot slipped off the mattress.

“That’s right. Watch me,” Logan invited, and then he turned, lowered his head, and dragged his tongue over the base of his cock.

The strangled sound that escaped his throat was loud, and he tried to put his foot back on the mattress so he could push up into Logan’s face. But after a couple of failed attempts, Logan took his ankle and placed it over his muscled shoulder.

With his other leg lying flat and his hips angled up, the picture Tate was seeing was so fucking indecent that he couldn’t believe he was in it. But as Logan’s tongue drew a direct path to the tip of his cock and he saw his own hands reach down and grip all of that black hair to keep him in place, he remembered that the picture was his reality.