At this point a person could walk right in on them and Blake probably wouldn't react or even care. It's difficult to think of anything but Logan's cock pressing into him, that blissful pressure practically making his mouth water. Gripping the top of the stalls, he's stretched long and lean, shirt rucked up, pants shoved down, and he imagines he looks as desperate as he feels.
"Logan, ahhh," he croons quietly, wistfully. He's wriggling back against the shorter man, face pressed against the cool stall wall. There aren't many people who can drum up this kind of compliance in the willful man, but occasionally giving in is something Blake finds he likes (only if he knows that advantage will inevitably work in his favor, at least for now).
He arches and growls lowly, "Right there, right fucking there. Fuck, fuck..." It's a litany that spills from his mouth and it's probably not going to stop until his legs are weak and his mind is blown.
Logan is nothing if not a hedonistic sort. He doesn't just pursue pleasurable things, he indulges in them. Uses them like an assault on his senses to drown out all else. It's habitual for a man who hears and feels and tastes and smells so keenly. He can't adequately describe how a sound can make him hungry or a scent can feel like music, but once all his senses compound it's not unlike being intoxicated.
And he feels it now. Like he's drunk off the way Blake's breath catches on his moans and starved for the obscene arc of his back. Careless of the way his fingers could be leaving bruises he hauls Blake firmly against his hips, driving towards that point John's writhing on his dick finally found within him.
The part of his brain responsible for speech feels more distant every moment. Not that he's much quieter for it. Guttural grunts and groans push through his teeth shamelessly as he runs a hand up John's spine and down the slope his neck when his head hands between his shoulders. Stroking him fondly. Appreciatively. As his eyes devour the sight of him wanting.
When he sets into a rhythm the movement is forceful and shallow. Grinding into Blake strict and determined purpose. He palms the man's ball. Applying a little pressure and tugging gently. Still refusing to return to the desperately stiff cock between Blake's thighs until he's growling in his ear again. "Fuck my hand until you come for me," he says, closing his fist around John's dick. "Let me feel you shake."
This is filthy and he feels like a degenerate for enjoying it so goddamn much, but holy shit will there be no apologies from either of them later if the rhythm of this is any indication. Instead, Blake's doing exactly as he's told, like a puppet to Logan's will, and more so than most other times, he feels safe in knowing that despite the bites and bruises and aching muscles, he'll come out of this spent and happy and likely better for it, as crazy as it might sound.
"Oh god, yes," he moans as he feels Logan's grip take hold. His whole body threatens to tighten around every part that invading his personal space and it's not long before their shared grinding is building that familiar pool of heat inside of him.
He's basically whimpering for it all — a sound that rarely drips from such a stalwart mouth — but any sense he had's left him and later he'll be lucky to remember anything but the jarring release as Logan plays him like a fiddle. Drawing out dangerous and deliciously lecherous noises, he comes hard, spirting and panting and shaking, just like Logan predicted.
From time to time, a man who recuperates as fast as he as does has to find other goalposts in exchanges like these. Finding the point at which someone wants it enough to give up some of the control they came into it with is a triumph that pleases his ego as much as his dick.
Blake doesn't make it easy to hold himself off as much as he's determined to. The noises that fall from his lips will ring in Logan's ears for a good long while. His grip only tightens when the Blake's movements get more urgent and desperate. When the motion of his hips become involuntary and Blake's goes tense Logan holds his weight flush against him. Giving John his full weight to rut against as he gives into obscene delight of being wrung by every twitch and tick of Blake's body.
The groan that escapes his clenched teeth is raw and ragged. Distorted by the effort he makes to hold something back as he comes buried deep in Blake and clinging to the last scraps of his own clear headed control. When his body goes slack again his palms find the stall. Penning Blake in between the wall and his chest as he blinks away the haze of pleasure and exhaustion.
"Hng," he huffs against Blake's neck. "Ada boy. Yer fun Blake. I like fun."
Well, there's certainly no getting out of this clean, that's for sure (not that Blake was expecting as much when entering a bathroom for this particular encounter). It's probably the furthest from his mind, actually, as he slowly descends back into a blissful reality. Logan's words swim around in his head like lazy fish, this way and that, until finally he swallows down the lingering taste of Logan and grumbles an affirmative.
"And don't you forget it," he half-jokes, amusement lacing his voice.
He closes his eyes, living in the moment for just a few seconds and enjoying the feeling of the sturdier man against him. Reaching back, he squeezes Logan's hip and grins a bit stupidly. "Bet you're full of all kindsa surprises. We should do this more often." Not this in particular, he figures, but maybe they've got a few treats for each other.
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no subject
"Logan, ahhh," he croons quietly, wistfully. He's wriggling back against the shorter man, face pressed against the cool stall wall. There aren't many people who can drum up this kind of compliance in the willful man, but occasionally giving in is something Blake finds he likes (only if he knows that advantage will inevitably work in his favor, at least for now).
He arches and growls lowly, "Right there, right fucking there. Fuck, fuck..." It's a litany that spills from his mouth and it's probably not going to stop until his legs are weak and his mind is blown.
no subject
And he feels it now. Like he's drunk off the way Blake's breath catches on his moans and starved for the obscene arc of his back. Careless of the way his fingers could be leaving bruises he hauls Blake firmly against his hips, driving towards that point John's writhing on his dick finally found within him.
The part of his brain responsible for speech feels more distant every moment. Not that he's much quieter for it. Guttural grunts and groans push through his teeth shamelessly as he runs a hand up John's spine and down the slope his neck when his head hands between his shoulders. Stroking him fondly. Appreciatively. As his eyes devour the sight of him wanting.
When he sets into a rhythm the movement is forceful and shallow. Grinding into Blake strict and determined purpose. He palms the man's ball. Applying a little pressure and tugging gently. Still refusing to return to the desperately stiff cock between Blake's thighs until he's growling in his ear again. "Fuck my hand until you come for me," he says, closing his fist around John's dick. "Let me feel you shake."
no subject
"Oh god, yes," he moans as he feels Logan's grip take hold. His whole body threatens to tighten around every part that invading his personal space and it's not long before their shared grinding is building that familiar pool of heat inside of him.
He's basically whimpering for it all — a sound that rarely drips from such a stalwart mouth — but any sense he had's left him and later he'll be lucky to remember anything but the jarring release as Logan plays him like a fiddle. Drawing out dangerous and deliciously lecherous noises, he comes hard, spirting and panting and shaking, just like Logan predicted.
no subject
Blake doesn't make it easy to hold himself off as much as he's determined to. The noises that fall from his lips will ring in Logan's ears for a good long while. His grip only tightens when the Blake's movements get more urgent and desperate. When the motion of his hips become involuntary and Blake's goes tense Logan holds his weight flush against him. Giving John his full weight to rut against as he gives into obscene delight of being wrung by every twitch and tick of Blake's body.
The groan that escapes his clenched teeth is raw and ragged. Distorted by the effort he makes to hold something back as he comes buried deep in Blake and clinging to the last scraps of his own clear headed control. When his body goes slack again his palms find the stall. Penning Blake in between the wall and his chest as he blinks away the haze of pleasure and exhaustion.
"Hng," he huffs against Blake's neck. "Ada boy. Yer fun Blake. I like fun."
no subject
"And don't you forget it," he half-jokes, amusement lacing his voice.
He closes his eyes, living in the moment for just a few seconds and enjoying the feeling of the sturdier man against him. Reaching back, he squeezes Logan's hip and grins a bit stupidly. "Bet you're full of all kindsa surprises. We should do this more often." Not this in particular, he figures, but maybe they've got a few treats for each other.