Words: 6186
Couple: Bryn Keller/Logan Thompson
Notes: Were you EXPECTING THIS MUAHAHA! This takes place between chapter 27 and chapter 28 of Broken Doll. When Bryn left for "reconnaissance" this is what he was doing lolz. I'm planning on writing a second part to this, an extension, because it doesn't really end where I ended it lol. I hope you're looking forward to it!
Ratings/Warnings: 18+, erotic, contains graphic sexual content, mentions of assault, fluff
~@~@~@~
From the instant I first laid my eyes on Logan, I knew there was something different about him. Maybe it was the intensity in his dark green eyes, the way he could skulk around the rebellion without making a single sound, or how easily he'd handed my ass to me when we were sparring. The way he moved, the way he acted, was so calculated and thorough I assumed he had been a soldier from the special ops.
I knew next to nothing about him, but the more time I spent near him, training, on missions, or just sitting across the table from him, the more powerful my intrigue grew. I wanted to know more about him, I wanted to tear down his reservations until he was spilling all his secrets, although I admit that may prove difficult, considering he was completely mute.
I'd seen the scar on his throat before, by accident of course, before this last mission to the warehouses when I was told to retrieve Logan from his room so we could leave. I walked in on him getting dressed, black shirt hanging on his arms, hair a mess and eyes bleary from sleep. He didn't seem to comprehend my presence at first and just turned his head to squint at me, and I couldn't even speak as my eyes had locked with the ragged white scar crossing his throat, right under his chin, dragging crookedly along it until it dropped and seemed to cut over his sharp collar bone, stopping under his arm.
It had to be the worst scar I'd ever seen, and I was utterly stunned that he had survived it, but didn't voice my shock aloud. Instead I simply turned away, quickly informed him we were ready to depart when he was, and left.
After that mission, I started to follow him more with my eyes, my gaze occasionally dropping to the high turtle neck collar of his shirt that hid the mark from view. I wanted to know how he'd received his injury, how he managed to survive it, but asking would get me nowhere. I didn't understand his sign language, and he would probably get pissed off at me for asking and punch me.
So, I settled with watching him from a distance, which is how I happened upon him sneaking out of his room in the dead of night. I put myself just around the far corner when I heard his door open, peering around to see him step out with a coat on his shoulders and a bag in hand, quietly shutting his door before turning and walking quickly down the hall.
I followed, creeping along behind him until he'd left through a window, which I figured was odd until I realized he was probably doing something he shouldn't be doing. Obviously, I was going to follow him, slipping out the window and making sure I had a gun strapped to my thigh before hurrying to follow him.
His figure was a shadow under the moon, so it was a little unnerving to stalk him, wondering if he'd noticed me, or if he'd looked over his shoulder at all, because I couldn't tell. He was smart at least, bypassing all the cars and instead settling for walking, as it was the stealthiest way to sneak out of the rebellion.
I stayed a good few yards behind him until we reached one of the outposts, a ghost town with dusty buildings, charred foundations with piles of rubble, and dust devils swirling over the gravel that crunched under both our feet. Logan suddenly paused, and I froze up to keep myself from making noise by stepping down onto the loose ground.
For a long moment, he just stood there, and it was a terrible place to be, because the clouds had moved away from the full moon, casting bright silver lighting down over us. Logan's black hair looked like liquid almost, strands shimmering silver as he turned his head just enough to show his pale cheek, but he didn't turn any more than that, and I breathed out quietly in relief as he continued forward.
I followed him after a moment, easing into the shadows of the buildings still standing precariously and furrowing my brows when Logan slipped into one of them. I stayed in place for a long time before it occurred to me that he realized I was there and went out the back door of this building to lose me.
"Fuck," I whispered the curse and hurried forward, peering through a cracked window and panning my gaze over the interior.
At one point, it had probably been a restaurant, or maybe a business building, I could see a receptionist's desk crumbling on one side of the room, overturned tables and plush arm chairs with rips and burns on the upholstery, a couch near the middle of the room that must have spent years there collecting dust, one of the cushions falling halfway off.
I couldn't see Logan in that front room, though, and breathed out a few curses as I pushed forward and slipped into the building, shivering a little from the heavy draft and taking a selfish moment to try and close the door before realizing the glass had shattered from the frame and it was a pointless endeavor.
I threw my hands above my head in defeat and pulled the sides of my coat together before turning, a gasp tearing from my throat at the sudden blur that rushed me, the light of the moon glinting off the edge of a knife as it was pressed against the side of my neck, dark forest green eyes narrowed at me in suspicion.
"You knew I was following you," I stated simply, and Logan made a scoffing noise as if he was saying duh.
He pulled the knife away from my throat and used it to point behind me towards the door, an obvious order that didn't even need words, but I folded my arms defiantly and glared at him, not at all willing to leave him until he explained what he was doing. Sure, he couldn't speak, but he could write it down or something.
"I'm not going. What did you sneak out for?" he threw his hands up, snarling, and turned his back, but I kept talking, "I doubt Orion told you to do this, you wouldn't have snuck out through the fucking window if he had. Are you betraying the rebellion? Betraying your group?"
He spun on his heel, fury burning in his eyes, teeth grit as he curled his hands into fists, his knuckles turning white. I figured that meant no, and just staring into his eyes said a lot more than he could have himself if he could have talked. I would never betray my friends, how dare you accuse me of such a thing. His angry glare was so intense, I could swear I heard his words reverberating in my head through his eyes.
"Then what are you doing?" I asked, and he scoffed, turning his head away and shaking it.
You wouldn't understand.
"Try me," I said, and he turned back to gape at me, seemingly surprised. I just shrugged, "You're predictable, I can basically see what you want to say."
He narrowed his eyes at me, then turned away, slipping his knife back into the sheath hanging at his belt, folding his arms and pacing a few steps before turning back to give me a look that was startlingly vulnerable and open. I'd never seen him with that expression before, and it had something twisting in my chest, my breath coming a little short.
"What happened?" I asked, "You're leaving for a reason. You need to tell me somehow. Maybe I can help you."
He rolled his eyes and shook his head, his hand reaching up to rub his throat, staring down. He was hurting, maybe not physically, but something was bothering him, and he didn't seem to have any idea how to fix it or make it better. He was lost, and since he didn't really have any way to tell me what was wrong, there was only one thing I could think of to help him.
"Maybe I can distract you at the very least," I suggested, and Logan gave me a bored look, arching an eyebrow dramatically, "I've done it before. I'm good at being a tool to bury yourself in to hide from problems."
My words had Logan drawing his brows together, looking confused, and I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly.
"I think I said that wrong. What I mean is, with my group in Vienna, I did this a lot, slept with people to distract them from their problems. Usually it helped them calm down and think clearly enough that they wouldn't make any stupid choices."
Logan's eyes bugged open in shock, red crossing his cheeks, and I coughed into my hand, "Don't get the wrong idea, I just.... I'm not very good at giving advice or helping people emotionally, so using my body as a therapeutic way to deal with issues is just what I've always done for people."
Instead of looking disgusted like I'd expected, Logan just stared at me with this expression I couldn't decipher, brows drawn and a small frown on his lips as he looked between my eyes. He stared at me for so long I figured he was going to deny my offer, but at the last moment when I was about to take back my idea, he reached out and grabbed my hand in his.
I tensed up at the sudden contact, not entirely used to normal, affectionate skin on skin contact not related to sex, and stared at his hand as he tugged on mine to get me to move. I followed him, slightly stunned that he'd been the one to instigate this, and even more stunned when he spun me around and shoved his hands against my chest, pushing me onto the couch that was sitting in the room before straddling my hips with his knees pressed to the cushions beside my thighs, hands settling on my shoulders and staring down at me with narrow eyes.
I just shrugged at him, finally finding my normal composure before leaning back against the cushions, "Do whatever makes you feel better," I said, and his eyes narrowed even more, he almost appeared angry that I'd suggested that, but what else was I supposed to do to help him?
The fingers of one of his hands slipped across my cheek, and I kept eye contact with him as he stared down at me, gaging his reactions, and waiting for him to do something I understood. For the longest time, he just touched my face, his thumb rubbing across my cheek and down to my jaw, before his gaze softened into something even more unexpected than the vulnerable expression he'd shown me moments before.
Then he craned his head down and closed his eyes, holding my cheek in his gentle hand as he brushed his lips over mine, not passionately at all, and that made me tense underneath him. I wasn't used to the gentle caress on my face, or the sweet press of lips to mine that had warmth spreading across my skin.
Somehow the slow kiss had me aching for more, my eyes closing to the sensation as Logan slid his hand up my face, burying his fingers in my hair and pressing closer to me until our bodies were flush against each other, still separated by clothes, but thin enough that I could feel his heat mixing with my own skin.
It somehow felt different than what I was used to, maybe because this was the first time someone had ever straddled my lap, or the first time anyone had kissed me like this, it had the heat growing hotter, but slowly, almost agonizingly slow, until I finally moved my hands to grasp at Logan's sides.
That must have been what he was waiting for, because he finally parted from the kiss and leaned back, reaching down to grab the bottom of his shirt and pulling it up, tugging his arms from the sleeves and tossing it onto the couch beside us so he could plant his hands on my shoulders again.
My breath hitched drastically in my throat, as my eyes raked over his lithe form, feeling yet again surprised at the scars that marred his chest and stomach. They weren't nearly as noticeable as the one along his throat, but there were so many of varying sizes and color that I had to wonder how they happened.
They looked to be years old, and I let my hands move from his sides to trail my calloused fingers over a few of the lifted scars, my eyes raising to his face so my brown gaze mixed with green. The lines in his face seemed to be deeper and heavier, showing age and wisdom that had likely come with agonizing pain.
"How did these happen?" I asked, but he just twisted a lock of my hair between his fingers, his eyes breaking from mine so he could watch what he was doing.
He didn't appear uncomfortable with the question, or awkward, like he didn't like the question. It almost seemed like he expected me to already know, and I suppose it was obvious, the world had ended and Logan was a man who'd been part of many vicious firefights, but that was beside the point entirely.
I didn't care if it was obvious, I wanted to know the details of how each one of these marks was created. Besides, I wasn't stupid, I could tell there was something more behind these scars than what he wanted me to believe. I decided to try my luck, my fingers slipping up his chest so I could thumb the edge of the scar that was under his left arm, carefully dragging my fingers over the surface of the damaged skin until I'd reached the sharp curve of his collar bone.
His breath hitched a little, eyes snapping to mine, and I was prepared for him to jerk out of my lap or slap my hand away, but he just stared at me. He didn't look scared, in fact there was fire in his eyes, a silent dare for me to keep going, touch more, so I did, letting my entire hand spread across his collar before sliding it higher, trailing the pads of my fingers over the scar until he'd tipped his chin up, allowing me full access to where the scar ended on the other side of his neck.
Logan's green eyes were heavily hooded as they watched me, and I frowned when I met his gaze, "Maybe one of these days you can write down what happened to you," I suggested, and his head tipped to the side, appearing amused at my suggestion, "You're right, why bother," I shrugged, dropping my hands to his hips, "Keep going. Use me to the fullest until you feel better."
That look entered his eyes again, and he pulled at the front of my shirt until I leaned forward and let him pull it up over my head and off my arms, throwing it over the back of the couch before leaning closer and kissing me again, hands on my shoulders as his lips kneaded against my own, a little more firmly than the first kiss, like he was getting bolder, or figured I could handle something a little more intense than the gentle brushes he was giving me before.
I like to think I was decently trained in the art of intimacy, I'd slept with plenty of people, and they always ended up either thanking me for helping them or just didn't remember so it didn't matter. At the syndicate, I didn't have many friends or connections, so I felt no shame in lending out my body to the men who were too stressed or angry to function.
Letting them fuck me was the least I could do for them if it meant they felt better and their heads were clear. Having things bother our soldiers meant they could get distracted, which could put everyone, including Tobias, in danger. I always told myself I was performing some great service by whoring myself out, but it was never like this, never this intense, and we weren't even completely nude yet.
Logan was like a drug, his fingertips laced with ecstasy, his lips coated with whiskey, and I was slowly sinking deeper into the wonderfully agonizing feeling settling over me, craving more and more of him until I started to pull at his belt, my fingers quivering as I yanked the buckle loose and reached for the button of his jeans.
If it felt this amazing just kissing him and having his hands in my hair, how good would it be to have him open and pushed against me, our bodies bare and burning through any and all shame that could have been lingering in the air. I didn't even care anymore that I barely knew this man, and that I'd basically offered him my dick if it would distract him from doing something compulsive and getting himself killed in the process.
I just wanted his hands on my face, fingers tangled in my hair, lips on my skin. My breath slipped from between my lips and I gave a small, proud smile when my hand dipped into the front of his jeans to feel along Logan's half hard length. The man was sinfully endowed, and I couldn't decide if I wanted to feel the burn as he pushed into me, or if I wanted him to stay right where he was so I could work him open with my own achingly hard erection.
Both. I definitely wanted both. But what to ask for first?
I suppose I should just let Logan lead, since I was only doing this to make him feel better. Whatever he wanted, I would give it to him, my fingers curling around his throbbing cock and stroking with carefully planned jerks that had his breath hitching. He was kissing at my neck when I first found the sensitive spots on his shaft, and he practically breathed out the whimpering noise.
For a moment, I felt confused at the high pitched, barely audible noises he made as he trembled under my touch. From what I understood, muteness meant complete silence, how was it Logan could make any noise at all? The thought faded from my mind almost instantly as he started to kiss and nip at my neck, sucking a mark into the curve of my collar before sitting back to reveal his read face, lips parted as he panted and reached down to grab my wrist, prying my hand out of his pants so he could back off of me and tuck his thumbs into the waist of his jeans and boxers, shoving them down his thighs, kicking them off with his shoes before coming back to straddle me.
His lips captured mine as his hand pushed down my chest and to my jeans, where he easily opened the belt and undid the button of my jeans, tugging the zipper down and freeing my aching cock, a groan rumbling in my throat at his touch. I sounded animalistic in a way, but he didn't seem to mind as he stroked me with one hand, grabbing my wrist with his other and lifting it to his lips, kissing my knuckles before slipping his tongue out to lick at them, eyes locked with mine as he pushed three of my fingers into his mouth to lick them and get them wet.
I guess that was my answer to who was going to stick it in who. I let my head tip back and watched him carefully as he slipped my fingers from his mouth, slick and glinting in the moonlight as he led my hand down by my wrist, letting me do as I pleased and returning his hand and attention to my leaking shaft.
My fingers felt carefully behind him, following his sac down to his core where I pushed the globes of his ass apart so I could circle the tight muscle with one slick finger, massaging it until he let out a shuddering breath and relaxed enough for me to pierce up into him, thrusting the single digit into his heat while pressing kisses along his neck and shoulder, any skin I could reach with my lips.
He was panting into my ear now, one hand clawing at my shoulder and the other tangled through my hair, his parted lips pressing at the skin just under my ear as he trembled and rolled his hips as the stroking of my fingers stimulated him. I reached my free hand around him to help spread him apart as I slipped in a second finger, feeling the strain of his tight muscle, and noting the way his body subtly tensed before relaxing with a shudder and a sharp gasp.
"Just bite me if I'm hurting you," I breathed to him, and I swear I heard him scoff again as he buried his face against my neck before rolling his hips and pushing himself back onto my fingers so they buried deeper into him.
His head reeled back and he made a sharp noise of what had to be pleasure. I gave a half smile as I started to thrust a little harder against that special bundle of nerves, hitting it a second time before easing my third finger into his channel while he was shuddering from pleasure, whimpers leaving his bruised lips as he clung to my shoulders and rocked his hips back against my fingers.
I had to grab his hip to get him to stop moving, carefully easing my fingers out of him so I wouldn't hurt him before he pulled back to look into my eyes, not at all abashed to stare straight at me while he pushed himself onto his knees and reached down to hold my hard length in one hand while he rotated his hips down, slipping his lip between his teeth and biting down as he lined me up and started to sit, his lips parting and his head falling back to bare his scar to me, a heated groan edging its way from his throat as my hardness slipped up into him.
The pleasure blinded me from the passing thought of how did he make that noise, and my hands grasped at his hips as I panted heavily and strained my muscles as I watched myself bottom out, our bodies fitting tightly together like pieces of a crazy, burning, unbelievably erotic puzzle. Really, I couldn't believe how sexy this man was, it made my mind whirl with slush and heat as he held onto my shoulder with one hand, using the fingers of his other to rake his sweat slicked bangs back away from his flushed face.
"Whenever you're ready," I panted, grinning lazily up at him as I leaned back, "You're in control. Take what you need until you feel better."
For the briefest moment, the lust left Logan's eyes, and something hard and frustrated replaced it, until I rolled my hips, feeling the head of my shaft nudge against that bundle of nerves, a gasp tearing out of Logan's lungs as the carnal fog quickly refilled his green eyes and he arched his back, eyes rolling.
I let him set the pace, lying my head back and closing my eyes, letting out little grumbles of pleasure now and then like whispered praises, just so Logan knew I was enjoying it, and by the breathless moans and whimpers that kept escaping his lips, I guaranteed he was having the time of his life. Out of curiosity I peeled open one eye, and I became impossibly harder as pleasure burned through my veins, both eyes opening so I could watch him.
Logan was stunning, the silver lighting of the moon breaking through the windows and basking across Logan so his skin looked white and glittered from the sweat that beaded across his chest and face. His eyes were half lidded, lashes casting heavy shadows onto his cheeks, his green eyes so dark I could barely make out their true color. His cheeks were tinted a heavy rose color, his wet lips dark red and parted to accommodate the heavy pants, his chest heaving, black hair hanging over one eye, falling from how he had it pushed back just moments before due to the way he was moving.
His back was arched so perfectly, hands gripping my shoulders so tightly he was probably leaving bruises, but I was fine with that. Actually, I was hoping he'd leave bruises, I was hoping he'd claw my skin open to let the blood flow free, bite at my neck until there were black bruises I would see every time I caught my own reflection.
I wanted this to last, I wanted to remember it, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him so his chest was flush against mine, and a shuddered breath gasped from him, his eyes suddenly wide in surprise before hooding and his lips curved into a small smile, his hand cupping my face as he leaned forward to kiss me, our lips molding together, as he shook under my touch, mumbling against my mouth.
Wait, how-.
My head threw back with a groan and I tightened as my climax rushed through me, my eyes blinded by white light as I spilled myself into Logan, who gave a shuddering noise and cried out, heat hitting my chest and stomach. Pleasure blinded me so severely that I didn't realize how odd the next moment was as a breathless voice I'd never heard before echoed out in the otherwise empty room.
"Bryn!"
Logan slumped against me, one arm wrapped around my neck, his face pressed to my neck so I could feel his humid pants against my pulse, his other hand grasping at my forearm. Both my arms were wrapped around him, one around his waist and the other around his shoulders, and I was lying my head back as I slowly started to come down from that high.
I was frowning as my brows knit and I opened my eyes, my head rolling from one side to the other, looking for whoever had spoken, but I saw no one, and realization hit me like a brick as I sat straighter and took Logan's shoulders, pushing him back and lifting him to remove myself from him. He sat awkwardly on my lap, head bowed and eyes hidden by his bangs, and I stared at him for a long time before speaking.
"Did you just-."
He stood from my lap before I could finish, grabbing his clothes from where they'd landed on the floor and yanking them on as I straightened my own clothes, making myself presentable by doing up my jeans and fixing the belt before standing and grabbing Logan's arm before he could get any further away from me.
"Logan, you just-."
"Talked," he finished for me, and I tensed up, eyes growing unbelievably wide as he turned to look at me, frowning with a defeated expression, not meeting my eye, just staring at my bare chest.
"How... I thought you were a mute. Everyone thinks you're a mute?! Your own group-!"
"I am mute," he snapped, finally meeting my eye for only an instant before bowing his head again, "I'm selectively mute. What's the difference?"
"Christus, what... why? If you're completely capable of speaking-?"
"Because I don't want to, that's why," he bit, yanking his arm out of my grip, "What's the fucking point? Talking always just gets me into trouble, this gives me an excuse to keep my mouth shut," he fingers brushed across the scar on his throat.
I shook my head, "Did you do it to yourself?"
"Don't be stupid," Logan scoffed, turning away from me, and pulling his shirt onto his arms, fixing the sleeves, "Just... forget it. Don't tell anyone, and forget it."
"Forget it, are you insane?" I waited for a reply and got nothing, groaning as I rubbed my hands over my face, "Logan... why did you leave the rebellion?"
He pulled the shirt on over his head, tugging at the bottom and smoothing it as he stared down, sighing heavily before turning back to me, but not meeting my eye, "I have personal business to attend to, and I can't have Orion and the others getting in my way," he said simply.
"That's it?" I asked, and he shrugged, "What personal business?"
"Call it a family affair," Logan mumbled, walking past me towards the couch, where he sat down and folded his arms, "It's none of your concern."
"I can't let you just walk off to deal with something potentially dangerous alone," I argued, and he narrowed his eyes at me.
"How do you expect to stop me? I could kick your ass ten ways and not break a sweat."
"True," I admitted, stalking up to him and leaning closer, my hands planting onto the back of the couch on either side of him, trapping him in place as I bowed my head lower and he tilted his head back to meet my eyes, keeping his narrowed, "but I'm sure I can think of something."
"Don't bother," he chuckled in amusement, arching an eyebrow, "The only reason I let you fuck me was because you looked like you needed it."
I paused, feeling something that could probably be described as a slap to my pride, "I'm sorry, I looked like I needed it?"
"Are you kidding?" Logan held a hand up, "Take what you want, use me if it makes you feel better. Those words are something that can only come from someone who is seriously fucked up in the head with potentially crippling abandonment issues," he jabbed his finger against my forehead, arching an eyebrow even higher so he looked almost funny, "What kind of man just offers sex to a guy he barely knows simply because he thinks it would calm the guy down?"
"It usually works...," I mumbled, and Logan sighed, shifting a little in his seat.
"You just don't know how to offer emotional comfort outside of sex," he theorized, and he was right, but I decided not to tell him that, "It's bad to do that, though, just throw yourself around like you're some kind of tool for therapy. You're not, you're a human with feelings, and those feelings are probably getting trampled on because of how uncaring you are of your own needs."
I considered it, my eyes lowering down, and I nearly jerked away from shock when Logan lifted a hand to my face, tilting my chin up, "Did it feel different just now? Different from the other times you slept with people?"
"... yea..."
"Do you think maybe there's a reason for that?"
I drew my brows in and looked off to the side, trying to think of a reason it felt different, so much better, but I couldn't really come up with anything that would make sense.
"You're hot?" I suggested, and Logan pinched the bridge of his nose with a breathy sigh, "It felt good, I don't usually top."
"Bryn," Logan took my face with both his hands, "I actually cared about what we were doing. I wanted you to feel good. Whenever you sleep with people, do they seem to care at all about you and your needs, or are they mainly focused on finishing so they can get on with their lives?"
I couldn't seem to break eye contact with him as I answered, "It's fine," was my argument, "That's why I offer it, so they can screw me and release stress before going back to their lives rejuvenated. I don't mind."
"You fucking should," Logan bit, "You're getting hurt and it's screwing your head up."
"I'm not hurt."
"Just sit down," Logan sighed, and I frowned as I pushed off the back of the couch before sitting down beside him, tensing when he turned onto his knees and leaned over me, kissing me, one hand on my face, the other tangled with the back of my hair to tilt my head back.
My eyes were wide in surprise until he pulled away, licking his lips, "What are you doing?" I asked, and he rolled his eyes before dropping lower to kiss my neck.
"Showing you how much better sex is when the other party actually gives a shit," he whispered the words to me, trailing kisses down to my chest.
"We just had sex... are you still stressed? Sorry-."
"Shut up," Logan said, pushing two fingers against my lips, "Just sit there."
"I don't-."
"Shhh," he raised himself up to kiss at my jaw, following the line to my chin before lifting higher to kiss me on the lips, "Close your eyes, Bryn. Trust me."
I felt instantly uncomfortable at that, as I wasn't one to trust very easily. It took Tobias ages to get me to consider him as an actual friend. When I first started spending time around him, sneaking into the orphanage to see him, it was mainly instinct based on curiosity for this strange kid who'd hidden my bloody body under his bed despite the consequences, but I didn't consider him a friend whom I trusted for years after our initial meeting.
It took Klaus and Kiefer even longer to get me to trust them. I was a little wary about trusting Sasha, and Carter.... I still didn't know what to think of him. For Logan to pop out with that, telling me to trust him.... I suddenly felt sick, reaching up to grab his shoulders and push him back, our eyes meeting and his expression growing soft, like he'd realized how uncomfortable I was.
"Believe me, I understand," he assured, stroking my jaw with his thumb, "I've been through some shit myself, it's hard to know who you can trust, but think about it. Do I seem like someone you can't trust? Do I seem like the kind of person who would betray you?"
"I don't know," I mumbled, and Logan shook his head.
"Yea you do."
I considered it, staring at him before shaking my head, "No, I don't... you wouldn't betray me. Or anyone."
"I understand how wary you are, but just this once," Logan held my face with both hands, moving to straddle me and pressing his forehead to my own, "Let yourself break open. Put your trust in me, just me. Let go. Let someone make you feel good for once."
"I did feel good," I was practically whispering by then, yet again intoxicated by the drug that was Logan's touch, "You make me feel.... Different."
"Different how?" Logan urged, "Tell me."
"Insignificant," that time I did whisper, and Logan looked legitimately surprised, like he'd been expecting something else.
His face was flushed, and he looked away awkwardly before meeting my eye again, his thumb taking my chin, my lips instinctively parting for him, "Good," he said, "That's how you're supposed to feel."
"I'm not used to it," I argued, "I... I'm always in control...."
"I've noticed," Logan hummed, hands dropping to my shoulders, "It's not a bad thing. Feeling insignificant, vulnerable, in front of another person, it's scary, but it's not a bad thing," something seemed to break in his eyes, "You must take chances and bear yourself completely to another, that's how you connect and fall in love. It's different than stripping nude. Being truly naked is stripping your very soul and giving another human access to everything you are, despite the chance of being completely shattered."
I watched him breathlessly, reaching up to touch his neck where I knew the scar was, "Someone shattered you," I said, and his breath hitched before he shut his eyes.
"My situation is different than yours," he said, "Trust me."
I didn't want to move from this position, everything he was saying had my chest heating with something unfamiliar. It wasn't pleasure, not sexually anyway, but it made me feel calm, peaceful, I wanted to feel more of it, so I wound my arms around Logan's waist and pulled him closer, startling him.
"I want you to make me feel insignificant," I decided, and his eyes grew wide as his breath hitched in his throat and he bit onto his bottom lip, contemplating it before swallowing and nodding.
"Do you trust me?"
"No," I answered, "but I'll give you a chance to change my mind."
Logan laughed at that and leaned forward, setting his forehead against mine and holding my face so he could kiss me, "I hope I don't disappoint you."
"You won't," I murmured, pulling him back into the kiss.