Fic: The Realm of You, 13/24
Title: The Realm of You
Part: 13/24
Genre: Big Time Rush - Drama / Angst
Pairings: Logan/Kendall, Kendall/Jo
Details: AU, Slash
Rating: MA/NC17
Warnings: Dark themes, sexual content
Post Word Count: 1982
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
Kendall is happy as fuck.
The sun shines every single day and Logan is so damn beautiful in it. He’s beautiful in the rain, too. And in the kitchen and the studio and on airplanes and sitting in the grass. But Kendall thinks he’s fucking gorgeous on his back, the flush on his cheeks traveling down his neck, his chest, a full-body blush no one sees but Kendall.
So this is what it’s like to be beloved.
To be in love.
To love someone as much as they love you.
They go on tour and sing their hearts out, lyrics on their lips and something like contentment in their hearts.
Kendall touches Logan now, even in public. It’s a force he can’t stop, magnets in his fingertips, his palms. He tries not to be so obvious, but the only time he doesn’t ache is when his hands are filled with Logan’s flesh.
On stage, he watches Logan, sly glances and private smiles. Logan returns each and every look, as though Kendall’s gaze were projecting heat and flame. Life and music and days and days are filled to the brim with passion, passion, passion, and Kendall knows there is nothing he could ever be as addicted to as Logan’s mouth, curling up at the corners.
The times they are alone are frenzied, frantic and desperate. Words whispered upon a panting breath, a sweaty knot of thrusting hips and long limbs.
And they haven’t even had full on sex, not yet. But Kendall has been thinking about it. Frequently. Constantly. He knows he wants it to be more than a chase to bring each other off; he wants it to be more than a five minute hand job in the bathroom, a hushed dry hump in a closet. He also thinks about how things would work. Kendall knows parts go in other parts, but whose parts will go where?
It doesn’t matter though, not to Kendall. It doesn’t matter because all he wants is to be with Logan.
Kendall puts some weight back on, despite the rigorous dance routines. Logan and he share a tour bus, and Logan finds the most inventive ways of feeding Kendall when they are alone. A piece of his favorite candy between Logan’s lips, a smoothie with two straws, pancakes with chocolate chip or blueberry smiles. The sick feeling in Kendall’s stomach has been replaced with that fluttery, nice sensation he always associates with Logan, a burst of affection he had almost made himself forget.
The last stop of their tour is done, and they are exhausted, the screams of countless fans still echoing in their ears. It’s just an eleven hour drive back to L.A., and Logan falls asleep almost immediately once they are on the bus.
Kendall is tired, but too restless, keyed up to sleep. Instead, he watches Logan, his face so innocent and smooth in sleep. Here he is, at his most vulnerable, and he trusts Kendall enough to sleep like an infant. These are the moments in which Kendall basks, because he can pretend they are just two normal guys, no secrets. He can remember countless sleepovers where a brush of Logan’s skin against his was everything.
All is quiet, save the sounds of the road, the vibration of the motor and Logan’s steady breathing. That same old want flares in Kendall, and he needs to be pressed against the other boy, draw out the heat of his sleep-warm flesh. He shrugs off his flannel top and pulls his t-shirt over his head. As smoothly as possible, he slides in the small bunk next to Logan and moans in contentment when two steadfast arms wrap around him, as though the need to be close were as automatic as breathing for them both.
Kendall splays his hands on Logan’s chest, searching out the ever-present thumpthump of Logan’s heart. He finds it easily and places his cheek against the spot. He knows Logan is waking when the rhythm speeds, a deep inhale rushing through the other boy’s lungs. There is a moment of silence before a breathy chuckle tickles Kendall’s ear.
“Your hands are so cold,” Logan says, squeezing Kendall so that he has to burrow his face into the crook of Logan’s neck. Kendall breathes in until his chest hurts, trying to absorb the heady scent of Logan, all cool snow and sleepy skin and boy. Puckering his lips, he places the softest of kisses against the column of Logan’s throat, feels a gulp against his mouth.
Logan pulls back the smallest bit so he can look at Kendall, nostrils flared and heavy lidded eyes. Kendall has come to recognize the expression with ease -- a look telling of desire. “Your lips are cold, too,” Logan whispers, leaning in to press his mouth against Kendall’s.
And Kendall completely throws himself into the kiss, as he does with everything else in his life. HIs hands move from Logan’s chest into his hair and pulls himself so close to the other boy, not even the smallest breath of wind could pass between them. The thunder of Logan’s heart presses against Kendall’s chest, syncopating and alternating with the beat of his own. And it’s all skin on skin, so much and not enough.
They both think the time is right, know it in the blood rushing through their veins, the speeding of their breath, their very bones. They strip each other until they are completely unclothed. The need permeating the air intensifies when their naked hips slide against one another, thighs weaving together as though the choreography they constantly practice is translated into something so much more intimate.
Kendall attempts to straddle Logan’s hips, but there just isn’t room in the bunk, the move he makes providing a delicious friction right where he needs it. He groans and arches his back as the joy of it warms his groin, and he promptly bangs his head on the top bunk.
Logan laughs and drags Kendall down to his chest, rubs the spot on the taller boy’s head. He peppers kisses over Kendall’s forehead, moves his fingertips to Kendall’s back and delivers light touches down his spine. Kendall shivers. Flipping them over, Logan matches himself against Kendall, props himself over the other boy on his forearms.
“I hit my head,” Kendall says, laughter escaping his mouth, the nervous happyperfectjoy feeling bubbling past his lips.
“You did,” Logan replies, joining Kendall in his chuckles. The laughter seems to make their bodies fit in an altogether new way and the nervous sounds fade as quickly as they came on.
Logan moves his hips, presses down, and Kendall’s eyes close and he can’t help the wanton sound he makes. Logan moves again and again and again until Kendall can think of nothing but the other boy. He digs his fingers into Logan’s hips, bucking upwards and erratically moving his hips, some variation of the word yes tumbling from his mouth. It seems almost instinctual to Kendall to part his thighs and wrap them around Logan, his feet flat on the bed so he may thrust upwards. Logan’s hips fit perfectly between Kendall’s and they are drowning in sensation as the tempo of their thrusting speeds.
Kendall doesn’t realize Logan’s intentions until he feels the heat of Logan’s fingers squeezing his thigh and smoothly travelling down, down, across the curve of Kendall’s ass until there is a single digit circling his sensitive entrance. Kendall jumps in surprise, clenching his muscles involuntarily.
They’ve messed around like this before, of course they have, but Kendall knows this is more. Much more.
“Hey,” Logan breaths, mouth still pressed against Kendall’s. Kendall hears Logan in the drawer next to the bunk, and he knows what comes next. Logan kisses him -- a long, slow, chaste press of lips, love pouring through like water to a cup. “Hey,” he starts again, now slickened fingers sliding between their bodies, once again finding Kendall’s opening. “I love you,” says Logan, inserting a finger inside.
And Logan plays Kendall’s body, wiggling his fingers just right and stretching and filling and kissing Kendall here and there and everywhere his lips are met with skin. Kendall moans and groans and mumbles, his fingernails biting into the flesh of Logan’s arms, his back, his ass. Logan works Kendall until he is loose and desperate, both boy’s bodies slick with sweat, cocks hot and hard as tempered metal, sliding together easily in the precome on their stomachs.
“Now,” Kendall groans. “Do it now. Please.” He spreads his thighs wider still, moves his body upwards to urge Logan’s cock closer to his hole.
There is a movement of hips, murmured endearments, a thrust so slow the world stops and Logan finds himself sheathed in Kendall’s body. Kendall is no virgin, but this is new, this vulnerability, this pleasurepain so raw and real. Something he can give after all he has taken.
Logan sighs and moans, his brow furrowed in concentration, sensation so good it aches. He expels a long breath and opens his eyes to look down at Kendall. A lovely smile, full of wonder, grows on his face. “I’m inside you,” he murmurs, no small amount of awe in his voice, as though this were something he had wanted his whole life. Kendall knows the feeling.
“I love you too,” Kendall whispers, claiming Logan’s lips and opening the other boy’s mouth. “Move.” He clenches around Logan’s cock and bucks up, showing Logan with his body how ready he is. Logan obliges, and they begin thrusting and panting and searching and finding, giving and taking. This is a culmination of years full of nothing but wantneedwant, boyish playtimes, secrets shared and kept and worn on the heart like scars.
Kendall has heard it said when a person experiences pleasure such as this, they see stars or fireworks, an entire rainbow of colors, the earth moves. For Kendall, all he sees, all he feels, is Logan. Oh, but he sees colors. Logan’s skin in a Minnesota winter, pale and milky white, untouched and inviting. Logan in the L.A. summer, smooth and latte brown, the hair of his arms shining golden against his flesh. Logan’s dark head of hair in the moonlight, blue-black and silver. He sees the fireworks of Logan’s eyes as they dilate to take in more Kendall. The earth moves because Logan moves it.
So this is what it’s like to make love.
To feel it from the skin between fingers to the top of a head to the heels of a foot.
Every bit of Kendall is humming, alive.
Logan’s pace has become frenzied and Kendall knows he’ll finish soon. Kendall feels Logan’s cock brushing against that spot inside him, but he knows he won’t be coming as soon as Logan. It’s okay though, because this isn’t about release.
“I can’t stop it,” Logan pants. “Oh, god, oh god, you feel so good. Fuck.”
Kendall pulls Logan into a kiss once more, whispers and asks him to come, to fill him with everything he is, was or ever will be. Pressing his forehead against Kendall’s, Logan shouts his release and love and overwhelming joy.
“You didn’t?” Logan looks toward Kendall’s still needy body.
“No, but it’s ok-- God.” Kendall doesn’t have a chance to finish his sentence before Logan takes the other boy in his mouth, effectively bringing him off with his wicked lips.
When they are finished, Kendall feels good. So good, he curls into Logan, once again presses his ear against the other boy’s heart. They are sweaty and dirty and sated and loved. The steady percussion lulls him to sleep, the steady breathing of Logan following him into dreams.
So this is what it’s like to be content.
To want to grab a moment, put it away and relive it later.
To believe happily ever after really might exist, if only for this.
Part 12 Part 14
Part: 13/24
Genre: Big Time Rush - Drama / Angst
Pairings: Logan/Kendall, Kendall/Jo
Details: AU, Slash
Rating: MA/NC17
Warnings: Dark themes, sexual content
Post Word Count: 1982
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
Kendall is happy as fuck.
The sun shines every single day and Logan is so damn beautiful in it. He’s beautiful in the rain, too. And in the kitchen and the studio and on airplanes and sitting in the grass. But Kendall thinks he’s fucking gorgeous on his back, the flush on his cheeks traveling down his neck, his chest, a full-body blush no one sees but Kendall.
So this is what it’s like to be beloved.
To be in love.
To love someone as much as they love you.
They go on tour and sing their hearts out, lyrics on their lips and something like contentment in their hearts.
Kendall touches Logan now, even in public. It’s a force he can’t stop, magnets in his fingertips, his palms. He tries not to be so obvious, but the only time he doesn’t ache is when his hands are filled with Logan’s flesh.
On stage, he watches Logan, sly glances and private smiles. Logan returns each and every look, as though Kendall’s gaze were projecting heat and flame. Life and music and days and days are filled to the brim with passion, passion, passion, and Kendall knows there is nothing he could ever be as addicted to as Logan’s mouth, curling up at the corners.
The times they are alone are frenzied, frantic and desperate. Words whispered upon a panting breath, a sweaty knot of thrusting hips and long limbs.
And they haven’t even had full on sex, not yet. But Kendall has been thinking about it. Frequently. Constantly. He knows he wants it to be more than a chase to bring each other off; he wants it to be more than a five minute hand job in the bathroom, a hushed dry hump in a closet. He also thinks about how things would work. Kendall knows parts go in other parts, but whose parts will go where?
It doesn’t matter though, not to Kendall. It doesn’t matter because all he wants is to be with Logan.
Kendall puts some weight back on, despite the rigorous dance routines. Logan and he share a tour bus, and Logan finds the most inventive ways of feeding Kendall when they are alone. A piece of his favorite candy between Logan’s lips, a smoothie with two straws, pancakes with chocolate chip or blueberry smiles. The sick feeling in Kendall’s stomach has been replaced with that fluttery, nice sensation he always associates with Logan, a burst of affection he had almost made himself forget.
The last stop of their tour is done, and they are exhausted, the screams of countless fans still echoing in their ears. It’s just an eleven hour drive back to L.A., and Logan falls asleep almost immediately once they are on the bus.
Kendall is tired, but too restless, keyed up to sleep. Instead, he watches Logan, his face so innocent and smooth in sleep. Here he is, at his most vulnerable, and he trusts Kendall enough to sleep like an infant. These are the moments in which Kendall basks, because he can pretend they are just two normal guys, no secrets. He can remember countless sleepovers where a brush of Logan’s skin against his was everything.
All is quiet, save the sounds of the road, the vibration of the motor and Logan’s steady breathing. That same old want flares in Kendall, and he needs to be pressed against the other boy, draw out the heat of his sleep-warm flesh. He shrugs off his flannel top and pulls his t-shirt over his head. As smoothly as possible, he slides in the small bunk next to Logan and moans in contentment when two steadfast arms wrap around him, as though the need to be close were as automatic as breathing for them both.
Kendall splays his hands on Logan’s chest, searching out the ever-present thumpthump of Logan’s heart. He finds it easily and places his cheek against the spot. He knows Logan is waking when the rhythm speeds, a deep inhale rushing through the other boy’s lungs. There is a moment of silence before a breathy chuckle tickles Kendall’s ear.
“Your hands are so cold,” Logan says, squeezing Kendall so that he has to burrow his face into the crook of Logan’s neck. Kendall breathes in until his chest hurts, trying to absorb the heady scent of Logan, all cool snow and sleepy skin and boy. Puckering his lips, he places the softest of kisses against the column of Logan’s throat, feels a gulp against his mouth.
Logan pulls back the smallest bit so he can look at Kendall, nostrils flared and heavy lidded eyes. Kendall has come to recognize the expression with ease -- a look telling of desire. “Your lips are cold, too,” Logan whispers, leaning in to press his mouth against Kendall’s.
And Kendall completely throws himself into the kiss, as he does with everything else in his life. HIs hands move from Logan’s chest into his hair and pulls himself so close to the other boy, not even the smallest breath of wind could pass between them. The thunder of Logan’s heart presses against Kendall’s chest, syncopating and alternating with the beat of his own. And it’s all skin on skin, so much and not enough.
They both think the time is right, know it in the blood rushing through their veins, the speeding of their breath, their very bones. They strip each other until they are completely unclothed. The need permeating the air intensifies when their naked hips slide against one another, thighs weaving together as though the choreography they constantly practice is translated into something so much more intimate.
Kendall attempts to straddle Logan’s hips, but there just isn’t room in the bunk, the move he makes providing a delicious friction right where he needs it. He groans and arches his back as the joy of it warms his groin, and he promptly bangs his head on the top bunk.
Logan laughs and drags Kendall down to his chest, rubs the spot on the taller boy’s head. He peppers kisses over Kendall’s forehead, moves his fingertips to Kendall’s back and delivers light touches down his spine. Kendall shivers. Flipping them over, Logan matches himself against Kendall, props himself over the other boy on his forearms.
“I hit my head,” Kendall says, laughter escaping his mouth, the nervous happyperfectjoy feeling bubbling past his lips.
“You did,” Logan replies, joining Kendall in his chuckles. The laughter seems to make their bodies fit in an altogether new way and the nervous sounds fade as quickly as they came on.
Logan moves his hips, presses down, and Kendall’s eyes close and he can’t help the wanton sound he makes. Logan moves again and again and again until Kendall can think of nothing but the other boy. He digs his fingers into Logan’s hips, bucking upwards and erratically moving his hips, some variation of the word yes tumbling from his mouth. It seems almost instinctual to Kendall to part his thighs and wrap them around Logan, his feet flat on the bed so he may thrust upwards. Logan’s hips fit perfectly between Kendall’s and they are drowning in sensation as the tempo of their thrusting speeds.
Kendall doesn’t realize Logan’s intentions until he feels the heat of Logan’s fingers squeezing his thigh and smoothly travelling down, down, across the curve of Kendall’s ass until there is a single digit circling his sensitive entrance. Kendall jumps in surprise, clenching his muscles involuntarily.
They’ve messed around like this before, of course they have, but Kendall knows this is more. Much more.
“Hey,” Logan breaths, mouth still pressed against Kendall’s. Kendall hears Logan in the drawer next to the bunk, and he knows what comes next. Logan kisses him -- a long, slow, chaste press of lips, love pouring through like water to a cup. “Hey,” he starts again, now slickened fingers sliding between their bodies, once again finding Kendall’s opening. “I love you,” says Logan, inserting a finger inside.
And Logan plays Kendall’s body, wiggling his fingers just right and stretching and filling and kissing Kendall here and there and everywhere his lips are met with skin. Kendall moans and groans and mumbles, his fingernails biting into the flesh of Logan’s arms, his back, his ass. Logan works Kendall until he is loose and desperate, both boy’s bodies slick with sweat, cocks hot and hard as tempered metal, sliding together easily in the precome on their stomachs.
“Now,” Kendall groans. “Do it now. Please.” He spreads his thighs wider still, moves his body upwards to urge Logan’s cock closer to his hole.
There is a movement of hips, murmured endearments, a thrust so slow the world stops and Logan finds himself sheathed in Kendall’s body. Kendall is no virgin, but this is new, this vulnerability, this pleasurepain so raw and real. Something he can give after all he has taken.
Logan sighs and moans, his brow furrowed in concentration, sensation so good it aches. He expels a long breath and opens his eyes to look down at Kendall. A lovely smile, full of wonder, grows on his face. “I’m inside you,” he murmurs, no small amount of awe in his voice, as though this were something he had wanted his whole life. Kendall knows the feeling.
“I love you too,” Kendall whispers, claiming Logan’s lips and opening the other boy’s mouth. “Move.” He clenches around Logan’s cock and bucks up, showing Logan with his body how ready he is. Logan obliges, and they begin thrusting and panting and searching and finding, giving and taking. This is a culmination of years full of nothing but wantneedwant, boyish playtimes, secrets shared and kept and worn on the heart like scars.
Kendall has heard it said when a person experiences pleasure such as this, they see stars or fireworks, an entire rainbow of colors, the earth moves. For Kendall, all he sees, all he feels, is Logan. Oh, but he sees colors. Logan’s skin in a Minnesota winter, pale and milky white, untouched and inviting. Logan in the L.A. summer, smooth and latte brown, the hair of his arms shining golden against his flesh. Logan’s dark head of hair in the moonlight, blue-black and silver. He sees the fireworks of Logan’s eyes as they dilate to take in more Kendall. The earth moves because Logan moves it.
So this is what it’s like to make love.
To feel it from the skin between fingers to the top of a head to the heels of a foot.
Every bit of Kendall is humming, alive.
Logan’s pace has become frenzied and Kendall knows he’ll finish soon. Kendall feels Logan’s cock brushing against that spot inside him, but he knows he won’t be coming as soon as Logan. It’s okay though, because this isn’t about release.
“I can’t stop it,” Logan pants. “Oh, god, oh god, you feel so good. Fuck.”
Kendall pulls Logan into a kiss once more, whispers and asks him to come, to fill him with everything he is, was or ever will be. Pressing his forehead against Kendall’s, Logan shouts his release and love and overwhelming joy.
“You didn’t?” Logan looks toward Kendall’s still needy body.
“No, but it’s ok-- God.” Kendall doesn’t have a chance to finish his sentence before Logan takes the other boy in his mouth, effectively bringing him off with his wicked lips.
When they are finished, Kendall feels good. So good, he curls into Logan, once again presses his ear against the other boy’s heart. They are sweaty and dirty and sated and loved. The steady percussion lulls him to sleep, the steady breathing of Logan following him into dreams.
So this is what it’s like to be content.
To want to grab a moment, put it away and relive it later.
To believe happily ever after really might exist, if only for this.
Part 12 Part 14