Fic: The Realm of You, 6/?
Title: The Realm of You
Part: 6/?
Genre: Big Time Rush - Drama / Angst
Pairings: Logan/Kendall, Kendall/Jo
Details: AU, Slash
Rating: MA/NC17
Warnings: Dark themes, sexual content in later parts
Post Word Count: 1198
Status: WIP
Summary: From friendship, to love, to something else entirely. When secrets are all they have, what is left when their lives become an open book? "I have no life but this."
Masterlist
Logan doesn’t mind secrets. Not when they are shared with Kendall.
The night is lit by a barely there moon, a sliver of a grin shining down, twilight escaping into purple-black skies. In a few short weeks, the boys will start their sophomore year of high school, and Carlos, James and Logan are all at Kendall’s house to celebrate the almost-end of Summer.
Logan’s bag makes a tinkling sound, and he tries to walk without bouncing. Kendall smiles at him when he arrives and gently removes the bag from Logan’s shoulder.
“Did he notice?” Kendall whispers, James coming up behind him and putting his head on the blond’s shoulder. Logan looks to James, covets how easily he can touch Kendall, unworried about how others might perceive their relationship.
When Logan touches Kendall, he feels himself laid open, obvious, blushing like a copper kettle.
“No, didn’t notice a thing,” Logan answers.
“Carlos!” Kendall shouts. “Get out of the kitchen and come back here!”
Carlos comes swinging around the corner, down the hall and runs into Kendall’s room. Kendall closes his bedroom door. Logan pulls the glass bottles from his bag and the other boys smile and cheer.
“Logan, man, how’d you do it?” Carlos asks, grabbing one of the small bottles.
“Well, my dad has a lot of different bottles so I just took some out of all of them,” Logan replies. James takes the bottle from Carlos.
“So it’s all mixed together?” James swirls the light amber colored liquid. “And are these Dr. Pepper bottles?”
“Yes and yes,” Logan says. “Swipers can’t be choosers.”
Kendall pipes up. “People mix it all together anyway, right?”
The guys shrug their shoulders and laugh, counting down the minutes until Mrs. Knight goes to bed.
Later, the boys watch re-reruns of That 70’s Show on nick@nite and pass the bottles around. They chase down the sting with pink lemonade and toss peppermints high in the air for each other to catch. As the night wears on, they miss more often than not, their laughs rising to high-pitched giggles.
Logan notices the room go quiet and still, glances towards his friends. They’re all piled together, passed out, the glow of the TV casting their faces in chaotic shadows with the shifting light. Always, always, his eyes are drawn to Kendall, expression smooth, vulnerable and innocent in rest.
He feels a squeeze and tug in his chest, something tight and insistent and unnamed.
Watching them all, Logan chuckles to himself, the arms and legs askew, disheveled clothing and hair everywhere, look anything but comfortable. But sleep they do, the breathy cadence of their dreams filling the room.
Logan thinks he could easily pass out with them, but he feels too good to succumb to sleep just yet. The warmth has spread within him down to the very bottoms of his feet, his face vibrating, his shoulders relaxed. He’s a little bold, as well, and he stands up, shuts off the TV and goes over to where Kendall lies, Carlos’s foot as his pillow.
A lock of tawny hair flops across Kendall’s eye. Logan reaches out to brush it away, unafraid of any reactions because no one is awake to see. Once he has moved it aside, Logan crouches down, on eye-level with Kendall’s sleeping form. He reaches out again and lightly brushes his fingers through the honey-gold strands, watching closely as the they fall away from his hand. He sighs, stands up once more. Leaving the room, Logan quietly makes his way to the back porch, sprawls himself out on the porch swing.
This is a secret he’s been trying to keep even from himself, the rhythm of his heart, the rush of blood to his cheeks, his...other places.
He lies there on the swing, staring out over the edge of the porch and into the blue-black sky, the stars twinkling happily, carefree. Logan hears the slight creak of a floorboard, a shift in the air as a door opens. He quickly sits up and sees Kendall, the flush in his cheeks glowing even in the barely-there light. Logan chuckles, a nervous sound, relieved Kendall stands here instead of Mrs. Knight.
“Why aren’t you asleep?” Logan inquires, unconsciously straightening his shirt, running hands through his hair.
“Why aren’t you?” Kendall presses the light on his watch, his face illuminated momentarily by the glow. He blinks, once, twice, the blue reflected on his eyes, casting out the color of moss. Logan swallows. “It’s almost three,” Kendall offers.
Logan is still buzzing, burning face and loose lips. “Thinking,” he replies. Kendall smiles, dimples reaching upwards toward pillow(foot) creases on his cheeks. He sits next to Logan, the swing jostling and squeaking. Logan tries to will his traitorous heart to stop pounding, the quick sound of timpani speeding to quarter notes, to eighths, to sixteenths.
Kendall stretches an arm behind Logan on the swing, skin still sleep-warm, and Logan feels the heat sinking into his flesh. Without thought, he leans back against the proffered arm, only searching out more warmth, maybe more Kendall.
“Is this okay?” Kendall asks, his arm moulding across Logan’s back, hand gripping his shoulder and pulling him close.
Logan’s tongue feels as useless as dying leaf in his mouth, and he searches Kendall’s face. What if this was some sort of joke? Some set-up meticulously planned over years and years of friendship to make him look stupid? But no, when he delves into the emotions painted on Kendall’s face, coloring his eyes in the brightest green, all he finds is earnestness. He nods, mistrustful of speech.
Kendall reaches out -- Logan wondering if he only imagines the other boy’s hand trembling -- and smooths out the worried lines on Logan’s brow. The touch is soft yet heavy in intention. Kendall’s hands come to rest on either side of Logan’s neck, thumbs reaching out to his jaw, his throat, under his ear. Searching, searching, searching.
“What are you thinking about?” Kendall’s eyes move about chaotically, as though Logan’s face were a temporary thing, only moments allowed to memorize its intricacies.
Your hands, your face, your stupid sideways smile, your bravery, your friendship, your strength, your voice, your thumbs, you, you, you, Logan wants to say. His loose tongue is tightened by the unnamed feeling, so all he can say is, “You.”
Kendall smirks, a short laugh escaping his parted lips. “Funny,” he whispers, “I was thinking of you, too.”
And he leans in, presses his mouth to Logan’s, lips searching, opening, finding, coming together, moving against. A curve of a smile like the smoothest silver spoon.
The kiss flares and Logan’s insides curl, clench to hold him together. His heart beats at a fever-pitch now, his lids closed but all he sees are shades of green: emerald, jade, forests of trees, freshly mown grass, the jewel-tone of Kendall’s eyes.
They exchange breath after breath of want, need, want, need until they are both panting, lips swollen, faces raw from almost-there stubble.
Later, Logan ponders Kendall’s mouth, deciding there is no better flavor than Kendall’s smile.
They don’t talk about it.
But Logan doesn’t mind a secret, as long as he shares it with Kendall.
Part 5 Part 7