Black spun around into an elaborate dance routine, bringing him closer and closer to Logan until he was stood with his back to him, undulating his body to the rhythm. So near that Logan could reach if he had been allowed. But he’d not been given permission. Yet.
The lithe dancer whirled to face him, his hand going to the hem of his see-through black top and pushing it higher until his abdomen came into view. Logan’s gaze was caught by the sleek skin, coated with a thin sheen of sweat or oil. He didn’t care which; he just knew this would be what Black would look like after a hard and heavy session of sex. Logan reached for him, then clenched his fist again and rested it on his thigh. Black curled the corner of his mouth as his whole body rippled with his movements.
The music changed to a lower, more desperate beat, and Black ripped the top over his head, throwing it to the side. He kicked Logan’s legs together and straddled him, hovering over his thighs while his hands pressed to the back of the sofa, bringing his upper body closer to him.
Licking his lips, Logan’s gaze took in every part of Black he could see, including his half-lidded eyes and bruised mouth where it appeared as though he’d been biting his lips. Black’s body never stopped moving, but they were both caught in the heat of their locked eyes.
“Touch me,” Bastien whispered, bringing his mouth close to Logan’s ear. “Touch me…” He pulled back and raised his eyebrow.
“Logan,” he growled.
Black pursed his lips. “Touch me, Logan.”
Logan’s cock pressed defiantly against his zipper as his eyelids briefly flickered at the sound of his name on Black’s lips.
Not moving his hands from where they were on his thighs, he uncurled his fingers, spreading them wide enough to reach Black’s legs. The smooth skin surprised Logan, although it probably shouldn’t have. His fingers skimmed up Black’s thighs until he reached the little mesh shorts he was wearing. Reining in the desire to fist his hands in the fabric and tear them off the man, he slid his hands over the fabric to the back, cupping his ass cheeks as Black surged forward, rolling his hips against Logan’s groin.
Black transferred his hands from the back of the sofa to Logan’s shoulders, allowing him to take his weight as his ass rose and fell over his lap.
“Jesus,” Logan breathed, sweat beading at his temples and sliding down his face. He had not been this hard in a long time.
“No, not Jesus, just Bastien.”
The man’s rhythm stuttered for a second before he continued, but Logan caught it and knew the dancer had not meant to give out his name.
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Logan muttered, glancing into Black’s—no, Bastien’s eyes.
Bastien’s gaze roamed Logan’s face before he dropped one knee to one side of him and lifted a foot to the other, giving him more room to manoeuvre and tease the hell out of Logan. When Logan was nearing the end of his restraint, Bastien slid his feet to the floor and dropped to his knees, sliding down, skimming every inch of Logan’s body as he went. He blew hot air across the zipper of his trousers, then pushed up to standing, resting his hands on the back of the sofa and bringing his face to Logan’s once more.
“What is it about you?” Bastien murmured, tilting his head and closing in on Logan’s lips, then pulling away before they met, Logan barely stopping himself from following.
Logan took a chance and slid his hands up Bastien’s arms and around his back before resting one hand between Bastien’s shoulder blades, his other sliding down to cup his ass. Bastien’s movements ceased, and their breathing sounded loud despite the music.
“What is it about you?” Logan threw back before tugging Bastien closer.