"Let's not ask for too much trouble," Blake muses, his smirk turning into a sly smile. Honestly, he hasn't done anything this irresponsible since... well, probably the last time Logan had egged him on.
Reaching out, he hooks a finger into one of the other man's belt loops and walks backwards towards a regular stall (because of course he isn't about to hold up the large stall even if it's bound to give him more room to work).
Blake's penchant for doing something good and careful even when he's doing something bad is charming. But only in that sort of boy scout way that makes Logan want to torment him.
He chuckles at the tentative way he's wrangled into that stall and wonders briefly if office Blake is new to this sort of arrangement. His heavy hand thumps the center of John's chest as he balls up a fistful of his shirt and backs them both in a little more forcefully, until Blake's up against the stall wall.
"Darlin'. You're a little late to be worried about trouble."
Out comes a puff of air as he's manhandled into position and he tips up his chin, maybe out of pride, maybe to appear that much taller. Either way, he certainly doesn't seem any bit deterred by the motion, although the gears are grinding as he reorients to what he thinks Logan is looking for here.
"Why? You gonna teach me a lesson?" he asks, reaching for Logan's pants, not to be deterred from what they'd planned. "Is this a cautionary tale in the making?" Blake certainly looks more flushed and excited than any bit like he's actually concerned. Maybe because he thinks he knows Logan well enough at this point that he won't spring on him too many surprises, or maybe because he feels confident he can handle whatever's coming. Either way, he's having a hard time staving off a grin as he tries to get to Logan's dick.
He chuckles under his breath. The smile on his face revealing the way he pushes his own tongue against the points of his canine teeth when he's biting back something crass. Whether or not Blake finds himself so manhandled very often or not, he doesn't know. But he's convinced the younger man likes it. If not by the scent of him then by the way he goads him like man so used to making the right decisions he's maybe a little thrilled by the prospect of doing something wrong.
"Maybe yer not as practiced at this as I took you for. But you don't tell someone to meet you in the bathroom unless you want all the trouble that comes with," he growls pleasantly and sinks his teeth into Blake's neck when the man finds his way blindly around his belt buckle.
Logan's probably more right than he realizes (and certainly more right than Blake will admit). The bite makes him go momentarily stiff, the feeling altogether more violent than he's used to, but not entirely unwelcome. It takes him a moment to settle into it and only then it's because he's plunged a hand past Logan's belt and awkwardly cupped at his balls. There isn't a lot of room to work with, but he'll take every advantage he can get.
"And here you accuse me of always psychoanalyzin'," he sighs, voice arguably distant as he undoubtedly enjoys this. If that isn't obvious enough, the goose flesh the crawls over his skin ought to paint a bold enough picture. He gives the balls a squeeze and then strokes up the shaft to grip the tip of Logan's cock like a gearshift that he palms like a pro.
Bracing himself on the wall with his hands, he pens John in there— intentionally or otherwise. "S'not head-shrinkin' bub. S'just good sense," he assures between tonguing at the shallow punctures his teeth left in the younger man's skin.
He groans when he's squeezed. Shifting his gait to let his hand move in his pants. His stomach tightens involuntarily, pushing himself firmly into Blake's palm.
His fingers curl around a fistful of John's hair to pull his head back. "Tell me. You spend your down time meetin' strange men in bathroom stalls."
In the commotion, the ball cap he'd been wearing scuttles to the floor but Blake doesn't go chasing after it despite the urge. Instead, he grits his teeth at the attention, letting Logan have his fun, but not entirely put off either. There's rarely pleasure without a little pain, after all.
"I wouldn't tell you that even if I was," he huffs. Why risk his otherwise fairly pristine reputation. "And clearly I am, you dirty old fucker," he adds with a staccato laugh, his hand giving another squeeze and then a couple pumps. "So you gonna let me suck you off or what?" His timing is impeccable because half a second later the door opens and footsteps ring through the tiled room.
"C'mon," he growls, but the sound of someone entering cuts him off. After a moment's pause the grin on his face turns even more mischievous and he drags Blake's ear between his teeth before whispering with his mouth flush against his skin.
"You gonna suck me off or what?" he parrots back, smugly. Eager to see if Blake loses his nerve or only ends up more excited by the prospect of an audience.
There's hardly a moment between Logan's taunt and Blake taking action. He presses back at Logan, regaining some space so the he can shove those pants down. At least that's a normal enough sound for a bathroom, right? Of course the shuffling and Blake descends might be a little more telling, but damn if he's not going to get his mouth around Logan one way or another.
There's something incredibly satisfying for Logan in making good people do bad things. The intensity with which he watches Blake reclaim some control of this is only undercut by the grin on his face.
"Yer fulla surprises," he smiles, raking his fingers through Blake's hair and careless now for whoever else can hear them.
Admittedly, he likes to hear it. It's somewhat a matter of pride, and whether others realize it or not, how Blake prefers to operate in almost every aspect of his life. It's hard to pin down an ever-changing figure, after all.
Figuring his mouth can answer better than his voice, he lavs sloppily at Logan's balls to start, a hand helping to manipulate the man to his advantage. The sloppy sounds are likely unmistakable and the halting steps make it fairly obvious that someone is listening, perhaps even lingering purposefully. No matter, Blake's got a task to accomplish and as he takes Logan's cock into his mouth, he can't quite escape the quiet moan of pleasure he feels at finally being able to connect. It's a heady combination of power and submission and a plethora of robust smells between the two of them, all mingling in such a way he can't help but feel lightheaded with desire.
Leave it to Logan to be attracted to the challenge.
He might not realize John's penchant for being elusive is anything intentional. In fact, to Logan it feels more like denial. As if Blake humours him out of some desire to prove he's something Logan likes to tell him he's not. Whatever the truth is, Logan loves the chase. The pursuit of things someone's trying to keep at arms length.
His head thumps back against the hollow stall when Blake's mouth surrounds him. Adjusting his gait and leaning into the wall just enough to relax and appreciate the sight of his dick disappearing into Blake's open mouth.
"Mh, yer talented," he grumbles. Warm, heady, pleasure painting a lewd smile on his face. "I dunno what a cop's salary nets you but you got options, darlin'."
Somewhere beyond the door, running water squeaks to a stop and the room, save for the wet sounds between, them goes still. "Someone's eavesdropping," he chuckles. "Bet they like what they hear."
Whoever is listening suddenly knows more about Blake than most, from his career choice to his penchant for finding himself in somewhat unique situations. No matter — names haven't been used, and even if they were, he doubts whoever is listening would be bold enough to admit as much.
Huffing through his nose, the snort isn't dignified but it is necessary if Blake wants to answer without breaking the seal he's got on Logan. Honestly, he would probably enjoy this all a lot less if he was getting paid for it. Strangely enough, cop work isn't that much different.
Slowing purposefully, he wraps a hand around Logan to help pump, going for a luridly long and careful application. Blowjob — oral in general — tends to be his favorite act, most predominately giving, and the longer he can keep it up, the deeper he tends to disappear into the act.
He takes care to tow that line while doing a good job of pretending to be careless. It's not his first time with someone sporting a hint of an exhibitionist streak.
His accusation of eavesdropping sounds like it's enough to give their would-be audience the yips. The sounds of paper towel and swinging trashcan lids and other clatter that echos off the tile walls picks up almost immediately until whoever came in proceeds to scurry back out.
His pleasured amusement hums across his palate. "Takes a hng... a certain kinda guy to drag out a bathroom blowjob," he groans and catches John under the chin before he can think to take the dick out of his mouth and smart back at him. "Not that I'm complaining," he promises. "I just know when someone's tryna tease me."
A part of him feels caught because he certainly is teasing, but truth be told, he's enjoying himself as well. There are times when his mind, turned dark for any number of reasons, has considered this scenario as more than just a pleasurable foray into something middlingly kinky, when he'd thought to indulge for the danger of it instead. Being here now, able to fantasize while in surprisingly gentle hands, it's hard to want to stop.
Then again, a smaller part of him wants to strike back and pick up the pace, to draw every drop from Logan with a crushing speed just to be spiteful. As if that would teach anyone any lessons.
With the all-clear now, he can do all that he pleases at least, and releases to pump lazily, mouth dipping back to Logan's balls for a nip and a lick. Mindful of that, he closes his eyes and concentrates on the buzz left in his lips from the friction and the ache in his legs from the angle he's forced for maintain, muttering, "Fuck," because he really can't keep his mouth shut when he's having a good time.
Once Logan is convinced of something, it's not easy to change his mind and from the first time he met Blake he's been harbouring the suspicion that the man in question likes the thought of a little more danger than perhaps his ordinary life provides. That would explain so many things, most pressingly this, and Logan is no stranger to being the bad habit someone likes to indulge in.
A grunt lodges in his throat when Blake mouths his balls. His fingers curl into John's short hair. There's not much to hang on to there but he manages.
The air feels cooler than it is against his wet skin when Blake pulls back to curse and breathe and adjust the weight on his knees. His blunt fingers rake the man's scalp fondly to see the deep flush on Blake's lips. He strokes himself lazily. Dragging his foreskin over and back.
"Open," he says plainly. Holding Blake where he is by a handful of hair in case he tries for any more than he's been told to.
There's a flicker that crosses his face that's less surprise and more... consternation. It isn't unwelcome to have his hair pulled, to be directed, but there's something about being told to give in that makes him want to do the opposite. Issues with authority, he supposes.
Still, those dark eyes are softer than they should be even as his jaw tightens briefly like he's ready to argue. And with a look that suggests more than he'd like — mainly that Logan's lucky he's pliable — he does as he's told and waits to see if the other man's going to fuck his mouth, blow a load all over him, or some third option he's too horny to consider.
He smiles faintly as he watches John consider his options. Truly, he doesn't know which way Blake is apt to turn. Whether an order will frustrate him in the way he wants to be frustrated or simply make him push back in a scramble for control. He's prepared for either, but he can't say he's not a little surprise that Blake eventually does what he's told.
"Mh. You look fuckin' good doin' that," he growls. Relinquishing Blake's hair to drag the pad of his thumb across his lower lip and just relish the look of him a moment. The word thirsty comes to mind again. It made Logan smile when he first read that text and it still delights him now. He likes a man who knows what he wants. And even though Logan's almost certain Blake would let him finish however he needed he aches just as much to know he's repaid the favour. "Where do you want it, darlin'. Tell me."
One of the things that arguably troublesome is how confident John can be in the bedroom until suddenly the focus is squarely on him and he knows it. He fights every time with an urge to fade away, not because he wants to retreat, but because it's a reminder of the past that's uncomfortably mingled with every part of his life, lurking in places it's not wanted, invading like a hoard of unwanted feelings of inadequacy. It takes work to keep the gaze, to remind himself this isn't a moment where he's being starkly judged based on what someone thinks he might be worth. They're just here having a little filthy fun, no strings attached.
"Come in my mouth," he says through a flush that extends down his neck and up to his ears. "I wanna taste you," Blake says breathily, leaning on his gumption to recover from what he always feels is too intimate a slip for the bedroom (or bathroom, in this case).
Logan knows that discomfort. There are times he still feels it acutely himself, albeit for slightly different reasons. He knows intimately the way being handed an excess of attention that feels misplaced or undeserved can inspire a man's sense of fight or flight.
He can smell it on Blake. That barely perceptible shift from excitement to nervousness and back. But a keen sense of smell isn't like being empathic. It can tell him what someone might be feeling. Not why. He's still left to guess why Blake's fair skin turns red to the tips of his ears and the prospect of being right in those assumptions makes him want to tread lightly. Appreciative rather than domineering. No teasing like he usually does. No playful attempts to torment the other mans pride. He smiles and presses his thumb past Blake's lips until he can feel the man's tongue on his skin. "Fuck, I hoped you'd say that," he purrs, and wrings the base of his dick firmly when the next slow stroke makes him leak. Biting back a pang of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm him. "Thirsty cop. Look whatchu do t'me."
Hand in John's hair again he urges him nearer. Close enough just to wet his lips with the head of his cock. "C'mon then, darlin. Ruin me with that smart mouth. I need it like breathin'"
Relief mingles with a rather intense wave of anticipation and pleasure. John's not all that romantic — at least he'd say as much — but the shift in Logan and the words he uses send a shiver right up Blake's spine. It's filthy, sure, but surprisingly prescient, too, like the other man sees right into him and knows the perfect angle to take in order to get right to the heart of things.
If he was thirsty before, he's downright parched now as he dips right into the task, the flavor of Logan's thumb and precum lingering on his tongue. There aren't a lot of things that inspire him to desperation, but this moment generates a powerful need in Blake to follow through, to give it his all. Eyes closed, eyebrows crinkled, he gives it his all. Not slow, not fast, but steady and persistent, wanting so much to please in a way that only occasionally crops up so thoroughly. It's something about Logan's approach — a situation he'll be left to consider for a long time after this engagement — that makes him feel both cared for and wanting to take care in return. For two people who barely know each other, who are playing at near-strangers in a divey bathroom, it's impressive.
He's waiting for a taste, to swallow down everything this man has to offer and then linger in the blissful haze that follows, hopeful that he'll have made this more than worth both their time.
Assuming some amount of gentleness is ever wanted in the middle of an exchange like this is always a risk. He knew when he opened his mouth he might be erring into something too close for comfort. Too intimate for Blake’s nerves to stomach from a veritable stranger. Maybe it was a good guess. Or maybe he was right to have convinced himself what kind of man Blake is. A kind sort. Too good a man really, to be being doing all manner of debaucherous things like this. At least without some reassurance that he’ll not be judged for it.
The flush on Blake’s face seems to temper. The piqued scent of his nerves subsides. Replaced instead with want and the dull, bashful glow of arousal. Rough but affectionate, he scruffs John’s neck when he furrows his brow and takes Logan in his mouth again. Blake’s tongue up the underside of his dick pushes a low groan out of his throat and out of the stall he leans more heavily every moment.
“Just like that…” He growls. A content and guttural sound as he gives up the hold he has on own cock. Succumbing to whatever Blake wants to do with him. Resisting the urge to pull him closer by pushing his fingers through the man’s short hair instead. His other hand wringing the top edge of the stall when he it dawns on him he can’t trust his knees with the weight of him. His breath grows ragged and Logan manages to keep still for a while. But not without the occasional stiff, restrained rolling of his hips he can’t quite tamp down whenever Blake draws him deeper.
“Goddamnit… John—” It’s about as much warning as he can manage when that feeling welling up in him grows to such a pressure he knows he can’t dam up. His stomach goes taut. Trying to fight the quaking of his hips is a useless effort that leaves him cradling that bobbing head in his hands instead as he cums, unable to discern the throbbing of his dick from the pulse he can feel in Blake tongue.
Fighting that strangled groan in his throat, he’s winded when he gives up the battle. Barking breathless obscenities towards the ceiling of the bathroom, “ahh fuck…”
Satisfaction wells up from within Blake as Logan lets loose in more ways than one. It's like a signaling of a job well done punctuated with more filthy expletives that he can't help but appreciate — things he certainly would have echoed had he not had a mouth full at the moment of their utterance.
The warmth spilled into his mouth and the back of his throat is swallowed down around the last few soothing, careful pumps, wanting to catch every last bit not only because he's a little greedy for it, but also for the sake of cleanup. It leaves him breathless, sweaty, wanting, ruffled: all the best feelings as far as Blake's concerned. This was really the distraction he needed.
Leaning his forehead against Logan's hip, he gathers back his senses which is struggle enough considering how goddamn horny this whole endeavor's made him. The ache deep down — not just in his balls — is unrelenting, but not entirely unpleasant, either. He could scoop up his hat, wash his hands, and walk away calling this a job well-done and not feel the least bit bad about it. But not before he waits to hear how he's done.
"That was... so worth the wait," he points out with a little laugh, still pressed close to Logan (as if there's anywhere else to go).
It takes a good long moment for that kind of tension to drain from him. If he holds onto it a little longer than most it's because he's always overly cautious when it comes to matters of his self control.
The lines of his face are still set deeply in a wince that makes him look positively pained— at least until the huffed little laugh that Blake's comments inspire in him starts to bring him around again.
Blinking the bleariness out of his eyes his fingers finally stop lazily raking the hair up the back of Blake's neck. Taking a few fistfuls of his shirt to drag him to his feet instead. He's a brute of man when he wants to be and he's not one to pull a lot of punches with the other men in his life. Still, there's something affectionate in the heavy handed way he expresses himself, turning Blake around and crowding him against the wall.
His boots shuffle across the small space. Pressing his considerable weight possessively against Blake as he stuffs his hand down his pants, palming him roughly. "Not done with you yet, darlin'," he growls against Blake's ear. "I'm not lettin' you outta here 'til my name's on your lips too."
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He checks that door behind him for a lock and shrugs off the fact that there isn't one. "Right here, or in there?" he nods towards the stall.
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Reaching out, he hooks a finger into one of the other man's belt loops and walks backwards towards a regular stall (because of course he isn't about to hold up the large stall even if it's bound to give him more room to work).
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He chuckles at the tentative way he's wrangled into that stall and wonders briefly if office Blake is new to this sort of arrangement. His heavy hand thumps the center of John's chest as he balls up a fistful of his shirt and backs them both in a little more forcefully, until Blake's up against the stall wall.
"Darlin'. You're a little late to be worried about trouble."
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"Why? You gonna teach me a lesson?" he asks, reaching for Logan's pants, not to be deterred from what they'd planned. "Is this a cautionary tale in the making?" Blake certainly looks more flushed and excited than any bit like he's actually concerned. Maybe because he thinks he knows Logan well enough at this point that he won't spring on him too many surprises, or maybe because he feels confident he can handle whatever's coming. Either way, he's having a hard time staving off a grin as he tries to get to Logan's dick.
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"Maybe yer not as practiced at this as I took you for. But you don't tell someone to meet you in the bathroom unless you want all the trouble that comes with," he growls pleasantly and sinks his teeth into Blake's neck when the man finds his way blindly around his belt buckle.
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"And here you accuse me of always psychoanalyzin'," he sighs, voice arguably distant as he undoubtedly enjoys this. If that isn't obvious enough, the goose flesh the crawls over his skin ought to paint a bold enough picture. He gives the balls a squeeze and then strokes up the shaft to grip the tip of Logan's cock like a gearshift that he palms like a pro.
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He groans when he's squeezed. Shifting his gait to let his hand move in his pants. His stomach tightens involuntarily, pushing himself firmly into Blake's palm.
His fingers curl around a fistful of John's hair to pull his head back. "Tell me. You spend your down time meetin' strange men in bathroom stalls."
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"I wouldn't tell you that even if I was," he huffs. Why risk his otherwise fairly pristine reputation. "And clearly I am, you dirty old fucker," he adds with a staccato laugh, his hand giving another squeeze and then a couple pumps. "So you gonna let me suck you off or what?" His timing is impeccable because half a second later the door opens and footsteps ring through the tiled room.
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"You gonna suck me off or what?" he parrots back, smugly. Eager to see if Blake loses his nerve or only ends up more excited by the prospect of an audience.
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"Yer fulla surprises," he smiles, raking his fingers through Blake's hair and careless now for whoever else can hear them.
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Figuring his mouth can answer better than his voice, he lavs sloppily at Logan's balls to start, a hand helping to manipulate the man to his advantage. The sloppy sounds are likely unmistakable and the halting steps make it fairly obvious that someone is listening, perhaps even lingering purposefully. No matter, Blake's got a task to accomplish and as he takes Logan's cock into his mouth, he can't quite escape the quiet moan of pleasure he feels at finally being able to connect. It's a heady combination of power and submission and a plethora of robust smells between the two of them, all mingling in such a way he can't help but feel lightheaded with desire.
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He might not realize John's penchant for being elusive is anything intentional. In fact, to Logan it feels more like denial. As if Blake humours him out of some desire to prove he's something Logan likes to tell him he's not. Whatever the truth is, Logan loves the chase. The pursuit of things someone's trying to keep at arms length.
His head thumps back against the hollow stall when Blake's mouth surrounds him. Adjusting his gait and leaning into the wall just enough to relax and appreciate the sight of his dick disappearing into Blake's open mouth.
"Mh, yer talented," he grumbles. Warm, heady, pleasure painting a lewd smile on his face. "I dunno what a cop's salary nets you but you got options, darlin'."
Somewhere beyond the door, running water squeaks to a stop and the room, save for the wet sounds between, them goes still. "Someone's eavesdropping," he chuckles. "Bet they like what they hear."
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Huffing through his nose, the snort isn't dignified but it is necessary if Blake wants to answer without breaking the seal he's got on Logan. Honestly, he would probably enjoy this all a lot less if he was getting paid for it. Strangely enough, cop work isn't that much different.
Slowing purposefully, he wraps a hand around Logan to help pump, going for a luridly long and careful application. Blowjob — oral in general — tends to be his favorite act, most predominately giving, and the longer he can keep it up, the deeper he tends to disappear into the act.
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His accusation of eavesdropping sounds like it's enough to give their would-be audience the yips. The sounds of paper towel and swinging trashcan lids and other clatter that echos off the tile walls picks up almost immediately until whoever came in proceeds to scurry back out.
His pleasured amusement hums across his palate. "Takes a hng... a certain kinda guy to drag out a bathroom blowjob," he groans and catches John under the chin before he can think to take the dick out of his mouth and smart back at him. "Not that I'm complaining," he promises. "I just know when someone's tryna tease me."
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Then again, a smaller part of him wants to strike back and pick up the pace, to draw every drop from Logan with a crushing speed just to be spiteful. As if that would teach anyone any lessons.
With the all-clear now, he can do all that he pleases at least, and releases to pump lazily, mouth dipping back to Logan's balls for a nip and a lick. Mindful of that, he closes his eyes and concentrates on the buzz left in his lips from the friction and the ache in his legs from the angle he's forced for maintain, muttering, "Fuck," because he really can't keep his mouth shut when he's having a good time.
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A grunt lodges in his throat when Blake mouths his balls. His fingers curl into John's short hair. There's not much to hang on to there but he manages.
The air feels cooler than it is against his wet skin when Blake pulls back to curse and breathe and adjust the weight on his knees. His blunt fingers rake the man's scalp fondly to see the deep flush on Blake's lips. He strokes himself lazily. Dragging his foreskin over and back.
"Open," he says plainly. Holding Blake where he is by a handful of hair in case he tries for any more than he's been told to.
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Still, those dark eyes are softer than they should be even as his jaw tightens briefly like he's ready to argue. And with a look that suggests more than he'd like — mainly that Logan's lucky he's pliable — he does as he's told and waits to see if the other man's going to fuck his mouth, blow a load all over him, or some third option he's too horny to consider.
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"Mh. You look fuckin' good doin' that," he growls. Relinquishing Blake's hair to drag the pad of his thumb across his lower lip and just relish the look of him a moment. The word thirsty comes to mind again. It made Logan smile when he first read that text and it still delights him now. He likes a man who knows what he wants. And even though Logan's almost certain Blake would let him finish however he needed he aches just as much to know he's repaid the favour. "Where do you want it, darlin'. Tell me."
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"Come in my mouth," he says through a flush that extends down his neck and up to his ears. "I wanna taste you," Blake says breathily, leaning on his gumption to recover from what he always feels is too intimate a slip for the bedroom (or bathroom, in this case).
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He can smell it on Blake. That barely perceptible shift from excitement to nervousness and back. But a keen sense of smell isn't like being empathic. It can tell him what someone might be feeling. Not why. He's still left to guess why Blake's fair skin turns red to the tips of his ears and the prospect of being right in those assumptions makes him want to tread lightly. Appreciative rather than domineering. No teasing like he usually does. No playful attempts to torment the other mans pride. He smiles and presses his thumb past Blake's lips until he can feel the man's tongue on his skin. "Fuck, I hoped you'd say that," he purrs, and wrings the base of his dick firmly when the next slow stroke makes him leak. Biting back a pang of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm him. "Thirsty cop. Look whatchu do t'me."
Hand in John's hair again he urges him nearer. Close enough just to wet his lips with the head of his cock. "C'mon then, darlin. Ruin me with that smart mouth. I need it like breathin'"
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If he was thirsty before, he's downright parched now as he dips right into the task, the flavor of Logan's thumb and precum lingering on his tongue. There aren't a lot of things that inspire him to desperation, but this moment generates a powerful need in Blake to follow through, to give it his all. Eyes closed, eyebrows crinkled, he gives it his all. Not slow, not fast, but steady and persistent, wanting so much to please in a way that only occasionally crops up so thoroughly. It's something about Logan's approach — a situation he'll be left to consider for a long time after this engagement — that makes him feel both cared for and wanting to take care in return. For two people who barely know each other, who are playing at near-strangers in a divey bathroom, it's impressive.
He's waiting for a taste, to swallow down everything this man has to offer and then linger in the blissful haze that follows, hopeful that he'll have made this more than worth both their time.
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The flush on Blake’s face seems to temper. The piqued scent of his nerves subsides. Replaced instead with want and the dull, bashful glow of arousal. Rough but affectionate, he scruffs John’s neck when he furrows his brow and takes Logan in his mouth again. Blake’s tongue up the underside of his dick pushes a low groan out of his throat and out of the stall he leans more heavily every moment.
“Just like that…” He growls. A content and guttural sound as he gives up the hold he has on own cock. Succumbing to whatever Blake wants to do with him. Resisting the urge to pull him closer by pushing his fingers through the man’s short hair instead. His other hand wringing the top edge of the stall when he it dawns on him he can’t trust his knees with the weight of him. His breath grows ragged and Logan manages to keep still for a while. But not without the occasional stiff, restrained rolling of his hips he can’t quite tamp down whenever Blake draws him deeper.
“Goddamnit… John—” It’s about as much warning as he can manage when that feeling welling up in him grows to such a pressure he knows he can’t dam up. His stomach goes taut. Trying to fight the quaking of his hips is a useless effort that leaves him cradling that bobbing head in his hands instead as he cums, unable to discern the throbbing of his dick from the pulse he can feel in Blake tongue.
Fighting that strangled groan in his throat, he’s winded when he gives up the battle. Barking breathless obscenities towards the ceiling of the bathroom, “ahh fuck…”
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The warmth spilled into his mouth and the back of his throat is swallowed down around the last few soothing, careful pumps, wanting to catch every last bit not only because he's a little greedy for it, but also for the sake of cleanup. It leaves him breathless, sweaty, wanting, ruffled: all the best feelings as far as Blake's concerned. This was really the distraction he needed.
Leaning his forehead against Logan's hip, he gathers back his senses which is struggle enough considering how goddamn horny this whole endeavor's made him. The ache deep down — not just in his balls — is unrelenting, but not entirely unpleasant, either. He could scoop up his hat, wash his hands, and walk away calling this a job well-done and not feel the least bit bad about it. But not before he waits to hear how he's done.
"That was... so worth the wait," he points out with a little laugh, still pressed close to Logan (as if there's anywhere else to go).
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The lines of his face are still set deeply in a wince that makes him look positively pained— at least until the huffed little laugh that Blake's comments inspire in him starts to bring him around again.
Blinking the bleariness out of his eyes his fingers finally stop lazily raking the hair up the back of Blake's neck. Taking a few fistfuls of his shirt to drag him to his feet instead. He's a brute of man when he wants to be and he's not one to pull a lot of punches with the other men in his life. Still, there's something affectionate in the heavy handed way he expresses himself, turning Blake around and crowding him against the wall.
His boots shuffle across the small space. Pressing his considerable weight possessively against Blake as he stuffs his hand down his pants, palming him roughly. "Not done with you yet, darlin'," he growls against Blake's ear. "I'm not lettin' you outta here 'til my name's on your lips too."
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