Before You Know Where You Are (You're Saying Goodbye), Part 4/5
Title: Before You Know Where You Are (You’re Saying Goodbye)
Genre: Big Time Rush - Drama / Angst
Pairings: Logan/Kendall, small itty bitty Kendall/Jo and Logan/Camille
Details: Slash, showverse
Rating: MA/NC17
Warnings: Crossdressing, swearing, slash, homophobia, angst, not exactly HEA, smut, voyeurism, cheating (Kendall/Jo, Logan/Camille)
Status: WIP
Word Count: ~3300
Summary: As children grow to adulthood, their friendships change. Sometimes those friendships evolve, twist and shift into something foreign. What’s left can be messy, unable to be salvaged. Logan has a secret he’s kept to himself for as long as he can remember. Kendall finds out about it.
The first time Logan fucks Kendall is a complete accident.
As much as fucking can be accidental anyway.
Kendall asks Logan to go out with him, somewhere dark with music and dancing, somewhere Logan can wear a wig and a dress and they can play pretend in front of other people. It’s the first words either boy has spoken about it in the light of day. Logan is so shocked he doesn’t think it through enough to say no, can only think about Kendall’s hand on the small of his back, fingertips pressing in as though Kendall would hold Logan in his palm if he could.
That’s how Logan finds himself in some sort of teen dance club, lights flashing and music pumping. He had been nervous at first, scared someone might recognize them, but it’s dark outside and in and he’s hidden under layers of makeup and long hair and heels and a dress and frilly, white panties. His pinched toes scream at him to sit. But he can’t, he won’t, because Kendall’s hands are on his hips, his waist, smoothing up his sides and to his face. Kendall almost presses his lips against Logan’s, heated breath intermingling as they both pant in time with the heavy bass permeating the air. He closes his eyes as Kendall’s lips scorch a path along Logan’s jaw, to his ear, down his throat. Kendall’s hands go back to Logan’s hips, digging in with bruising force as Kendall thrusts his hips against Logan, a moan vibrating against his face.
And Logan’s never wanted someone so badly in his life, his head full of Kendall’s scent, all sweat and soap and memories. Logan knows this is crazy, most likely wrong and will probably ruin what he’s had with Kendall since before he can remember, but it’s already so far out of the realm of normality, he thinks there’s no turning back from here. He can’t stop the words flying from his mouth, “Let’s go someplace we can be alone.”
They’re in the car, hips and thighs matched against each other, moving and groaning and writhing, Logan’s face buried in the crook of Kendall’s neck. Kendall’s hands find their way under Logan’s dress, palms filled by Logan’s ass and fabric and frills.
“Take off your pants,” Logan says, helping Kendall with the button, the heat from Kendall’s cock moving to Logan’s fingers. They struggle for a moment, but eventually get it right. Kendall pushes Logan’s skirt up to his hips as Logan pulls down his underwear, fisting his dick as soon as it is freed.
Kendall leaves his hands bunched in the fabric gathered around Logan’s waist and takes a long look at Logan as if to communicate What are we doing?
Logan wonders the same thing. He wants to, but he knows how despicable it would be to fuck his best friend in the backseat of a car, and he’s certainly not letting Kendall fuck him. So all he says is, “It’s okay,” before stretching out over Kendall again. His hands find their way under the shirt Kendall still wears, Logan giving himself the excuse he is only steadying himself, not searching out the thump, thump of Kendall’s heart, not yearning to feel Kendall’s breath speed through his lungs as he presses their naked cocks together. The pleasure curls in Logan's stomach at the sensation of intimate flesh on flesh, and he bites his lip to keep from crying out.
Kendall’s hands are on Logan’s face, smoothing through the fake hair before he fists the long strands, and Logan - for only a moment - wishes to take the stupid wig off, know the ferocity of Kendall’s grip on his scalp.
"God, so good, Logan," Kendall groans, his hands moving from Logan's wig to his backside as he erratically thrusts upward.
And, god, there’s so much heat, the friction between them, something swelling in Logan with each sound of passion Kendall makes. There’s this tug in his chest, too, this feeling he’s been ignoring, this ache that is only lessened when Kendall talks to him, touches him, gives him a knowing smirk. He can’t stand it; Kendall’s lips next to his ear, murmuring and whispering endearments as he bucks upward, matching Logan with each thrust.
“Flip over?” Logan asks, getting as far away from Kendall as he can in the confines of the car, crossing his arms over his chest and pinning down his fingers to keep from touching Kendall so much. Kendall is confused, but he does as Logan asks, looking at Logan over his shoulder. “I’m not going to fu-- you know. I’m not going to do that. To you.” Logan wants to slap himself for how he screws up his words, and Kendall simply looks away from him, hiding his face in his crossed arms.
Logan spits in his hand and pumps his erection. He moves behind Kendall and presses his dick between Kendall’s barely parted thighs, hands squeezing Kendall’s cheeks before he begins thrusting in the tight space.
“Touch yourself,” Logan breathes, knowing he can’t do it himself, no matter how much he wants to. He’s dreamt about it, more times than he’d care to admit, the heavy heat of Kendall’s cock in his hand, his mouth, other places even more intimate.
So Kendall grasps himself, the sounds he made earlier picking right up where they left off. The distance hampers them somehow, and Logan can pretend this is all about getting off, being a sick, kinky fuck who gets his jollies by letting his best friend watch him in girl clothes. He tries to do what Kendall always tells him to do and stop thinking, but it’s fucking hard for Logan, whose thoughts go so fast sometimes he can’t even talk.
He’s trying to concentrate on fucking the space between Kendall’s thighs, but his eyes travel up the strong line of Kendall’s back, his fingers itching to trace the cleft of Kendall’s ass. Logan’s thrusting goes erratic and the shaft of his dick starts teasing Kendall’s hole until one wayward movement has the tip pressing in harshly. Kendall jumps forward, and Logan moves back against the foggy windows, every bit of him wanting to grab Kendall’s hips and fuck into him.
There’s this moment where the only sound in the car is heavy breathing. Kendall’s hair is sweaty, matted against his forehead, beaded drops making their way down his temple and Logan wants to kiss the spots, take some of Kendall inside himself. Kendall places his forehead back onto his crossed arms, drops one leg from the seat to the floor and arches his back, moves his ass towards Logan.
“S-sorry. I wasn’t trying to… I didn’t do it on pur-“
“Do it,” Kendall says.
“What?”
“Come on.” He rolls his hips and Logan doesn’t think he even realizes he’s moving. “Do it.”
“K-Kendall, I can’t just-“
“Please,” he whispers, peeking at Logan with his cheek resting against his arms, eyes hooded as the yellow street light makes him fuzzy around the edges, like one of the million horrible/wonderful dreams Logan has. He can’t say no, not when Kendall looks straight into him. It’s always been a problem, the word “no” and Kendall.
Logan tries to put more spit on himself, but he doesn’t really have much, his mouth dry, lips chapped. And Kendall just blindly reaches out and finds Logan’s waist, pulls him forward until his hips are flush against Kendall’s ass, and it seems like neither boy cares anymore about anything but piecing together.
So Kendall’s body pulls Logan inside, and it’s hot and tight and needy and frenzied and neither boy remembers what is said or how long it lasts. It could be an hour, a minute, a second, but when Logan gets off, buried to the hilt inside Kendall, his chest flush across Kendall’s back, an arm wrapped around Kendall’s torso, all he knows is that he’s a goner.
When he’s come down, found his way back to a cold reality in the L.A. heat, his father’s voice buzzes in his head like a heart monitor has flat-lined.
My son won’t be a fag.
~oOo~
They go on for months, fucks few and far between, but the watching routine stays the same. Kendall feels like some kind of addict, old and used up. He wants more from Logan, but can’t say it out loud.
He knows better.
He’s stopped trying to kiss Logan's mouth long ago, instead letting Logan lead, do what he wants, whatever he’s comfortable with.
Kendall keeps dating Jo, sometimes wonders why, but knows it’s because he’s aching for affection. There’s no doubt he cares for her; she’s beautiful, fun, charming. She twines her fingers with his, presses against him because she wants to be close, not just because she wants to get off. Kisses his lips. Gives as much as she takes.
All of it makes Kendall feel like a piece of shit. He’s never pictured himself as the unfaithful type, but then he’s never pictured letting his best friend fuck him either. It almost seems to cancel it all out, just because it’s Logan. It’s only something else they do together, like hockey or singing or playing in the snow.
Logan will have to be the one to stop this, Kendall knows. They all look to Kendall-his friends, his family-as this pillar of strength, when inside he’s nothing but a coward. He won’t stop this thing, but doesn’t think he can push it forward when the risk is too great. Better to be used by Logan than not have him at all.
There’s this word though, poking around the edges of his thoughts, a word that’s always existed between them but has come to mean something different.
Kendall thinks it’s really stupid there is only one word for love when there are so many different kinds.
The months turn to a year or more, and when Jo leaves, Logan stalls everything altogether. Kendall had some kind of foolish hope her leaving would make things change, push things forward, and when it doesn't, Kendall's heartache is doubled.
They go on tour, and Logan ignores any texts or notes or whispers from Kendall that aren't "normal". It's driving Kendall crazy, because he knows Logan still wears the stockings Kendall got him, late at night on the bus when he thinks Kendall is fast asleep.
The few months on the road seem endless, a famine. Kendall has never felt so starved in his life. No touches, no lustful looks, no silk or satin or lace. But that's not even the worst part. The worst part is never seeing Logan's smile aimed at Kendall, no deepening dimples when Kendall makes a funny face or sticks out his tongue. It's like he's been tossed in a desert on a cold, cold night that never ends, nothing but rough sand to press against his skin, a lightless sky to keep him company.
Kendall misses his friend most of all.
Does Logan still love fried pickles? Does he still even want to be a doctor? Does he still turn bright red when watching a PG-13 sex scene? Kendall knows the tiny moans Logan makes when he kisses the back of Logan's knee. He knows about the freckle on Logan's hip shaped like Canada, but he doesn't know the simplest things about Logan anymore. Is his favorite color still mossy green? It hurts deep down inside, a dark spot only Logan once made bright.
When they make it home, Logan declaring out of the blue he wants to pick things up with Camille, Kendall decides he needs to resolve this tension with Logan. Because there's this roiling emotion in his chest, his gut, and he's damn near certain it's jealousy.
When the two guys first fell into this situation, Kendall didn't mind Logan's on again/off again relationship so much. But now that he's known so much more of his friend, the heat of Logan buried in Kendall feeling like some kind of fucked up alignment of stars, he doesn't care for the idea.
No one else can know Logan like Kendall does.
~oOo~
Logan sits reclined on his bed. He's watching these tiny rainbows on the ceiling, streaming in through his collection of prisms by the window. He wonders about the colors he can't see, wishes his eyes were strong enough to take them all in.
Sometimes -- most of the time -- things don't work out the way he wishes they would.
He should be elated he and Camille are back together; it was his intention. He's relieved, but relief and elation are two very different things. It was a shit move on his part, because he hasn't been thinking of Camille's feelings the entire time he's known her. He's using her just as sure as he is Kendall, but at least having a relationship with Camille makes him straight.
Kendall will get over it. It's not like they were dating or talking about their feelings or sharing anything more than a kink.
As far as for himself, Logan isn't so sure. There's this unease in his heart of things left unfinished, things he can't finish. There's a sense of loss too, because how can they ever be just best friends again?
The object of his troublesome thoughts enters the room, and Logan's gaze jerks from the ceiling to Kendall. The taller boy plops on the end of Logan's bed. Logan sits up.
"So you and Camille, huh?"
Logan nods tentatively, wondering what Kendall's point will be. "You and Lucy seem flirty," Logan counters, offense building steam.
"Nuh uh, not the same thing. You saw how James acted when he tho--"
"What does Camille have to do with anything?" Logan interrupts. He scoots as far from Kendall as he can, presses his back against the headboard.
Kendall laughs and the sound is short, mirthless, mocking. "Nothing, I guess."
Logan doesn't want to have this conversation with Kendall now; he doesn't want this conversation ever. It's been months, so why does Kendall care now? Logan fidgets, looks out the window and feels accused when Kendall has yet to make an accusation.
"I'm comfortable with Camille," Logan starts. "I know what's expected of me."
"Comfortable? Logan, does Camille know how you like to we--"
"No. Stop, okay? I don't think she'd mind anyway." Logan's cheeks are turning red, and it only embarrasses him further that he can feel them heating up.
Kendall nods. "You're probably right." He snorts. "I imagine she's really into roleplay."
"Don't laugh at her."
Kendall holds his hands up in defense. "I'm not. I like Camille. Simply making an observation.” He looks Logan up and down before adding, “You'll never tell her."
They're quiet for long moments because they both know Kendall is right. Logan again trains his eyes on the ceiling, the once steady rainbows divided chaotically as a breeze cuts through the palm tree outside.
"You've been avoiding me," Kendall deadpans, eyes boring a hole into the side of Logan's face; the shorter boy can feel it.
"Yes," he answers, eyes never leaving the ceiling.
"Why?"
"Because we can't get caught. And because we need to stop," Logan answers.
"How could you want to be with Camille, Logan? She kissed James. How can you tr--"
Logan's anger flashes like a bolt of lightning, and he meets Kendall's stare. "I've been messing around with you pretty much the whole time I've known her! Do you think that makes me feel good about myself? Do you think any of this does?"
"Well, we don't kiss do we? We get you off. That's about the extent of it, right? Let's not consider the fact there might be something more involved," Kendall all but growls, eyes dark and dangerous.
"Let's not," Logan agrees, voice just as low as Kendall's. He can't deal with analyzing Kendall's statement. There's no way he can ponder the idea Kendall might actually feel something for Logan. It's too much, too treacherous, and Logan knows he could never get it out of his head. It would be a waking nightmare, knowing Kendall is merely a few feet away, loving Logan, and not being able to touch him. So he takes Kendall's comment at face value.
"Unbelievable," Kendall mutters, covering his face with his hands.
There are several more awkward moments of silence, Logan looking away from Kendall again, before Kendall finally raises his head from his hands.
“You’re homophobic, Logan.”
“I am not. Don’t you remember when James decided to ‘experiment’,” Logan wiggles his fingers in the air, making quotes, “and I was totally okay with it.”
“Dude, think of the word. It literally means being scared of gay stuff, and you’re obviously scared of the gay in you,” Kendall says.
“I don’t have any gay in me,” Logan sneers. “I don’t suck dick or take it in the ass.”
Kendall rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because you’re so much straighter than I am. Just shut up, Logan. You know you would love to suck my dick.”
Logan does shut up, stares at Kendall as though he’s peeled away all Logan’s layers and he’s staring at every horrible thought that has floated through Logan’s mind. Logan doesn’t want to admit Kendall is right. On all counts.
"Come away with me," Kendall says, very nearly demands.
"What?"
"For a weekend. Dress up for me just one more time, and I'll leave it at that."
"Kendall, no, what are we supposed to say--"
"There's a Harry Potter convention next month in San Diego. We're old enough to go on our own, and it's the kind of thing we would've gone to do together back before--"
"So you want me to dress like Hermione or something?" Logan asks, quirking an eyebrow.
Kendall can't help it. He laughs. "No, we say that's where we're going."
"It's really not a good idea, Kendall. We need to move past this."
"You're right," Kendall says. Logan hears something strange in Kendall's voice, lowering an octave.
"I miss you, Logie," Kendall says.
"I bet you're wearing lacey panties right now," Kendall says. He crawls to Logan on his hands and knees, and Logan knows he should really stop him, so he encircles Kendall's wrists with his fingers, squeezes without force.
"You can pretend you don't want me to see," Kendall whispers, leaning in so close that Logan shivers at the heat coming from him.
"You can pretend you don't want to touch me," Kendall says, unbuckling Logan's belt, Logan's fingers still gripping Kendall's wrists.
"You can pretend you're pushing me away when you're really holding me in place," Kendall says.
Logan's breathing hitches and he gasps when Kendall's cool fingers grip his stiffening length. He can't say no. It's been so long.
"Pink today?" Kendall says, running a finger of his free hand under the fabric along Logan's hip. He leans in until his lips tickle Logan's ear with each breath.
"It's the middle of the day, Ken," Logan pants. "Anyone could--"
"I know you, Logan," Kendall whispers as he beings to jerk Logan's cock.
Within seconds, they are both panting, Logan's head pressing into the headboard until he sees stars. How can he imagine ever going without this? Kendall's learned fingers entice every last bit of reason and pride and propriety Logan possesses, and he can't ever seem to be mad about it. The shame though. The shame comes much later.
"Come away with me," Kendall says again, flicking his wrist and swiping a thumb over Logan's dick, forcing the other boy to moan.
Logan can't say no, can't say anything really, so he replies with a pleasured hiss which might be considered positive.
"I'll take that as a yes," Kendall says.
It's always been a problem, the word "no" and Kendall.
Part Five
Genre: Big Time Rush - Drama / Angst
Pairings: Logan/Kendall, small itty bitty Kendall/Jo and Logan/Camille
Details: Slash, showverse
Rating: MA/NC17
Warnings: Crossdressing, swearing, slash, homophobia, angst, not exactly HEA, smut, voyeurism, cheating (Kendall/Jo, Logan/Camille)
Status: WIP
Word Count: ~3300
Summary: As children grow to adulthood, their friendships change. Sometimes those friendships evolve, twist and shift into something foreign. What’s left can be messy, unable to be salvaged. Logan has a secret he’s kept to himself for as long as he can remember. Kendall finds out about it.
The first time Logan fucks Kendall is a complete accident.
As much as fucking can be accidental anyway.
Kendall asks Logan to go out with him, somewhere dark with music and dancing, somewhere Logan can wear a wig and a dress and they can play pretend in front of other people. It’s the first words either boy has spoken about it in the light of day. Logan is so shocked he doesn’t think it through enough to say no, can only think about Kendall’s hand on the small of his back, fingertips pressing in as though Kendall would hold Logan in his palm if he could.
That’s how Logan finds himself in some sort of teen dance club, lights flashing and music pumping. He had been nervous at first, scared someone might recognize them, but it’s dark outside and in and he’s hidden under layers of makeup and long hair and heels and a dress and frilly, white panties. His pinched toes scream at him to sit. But he can’t, he won’t, because Kendall’s hands are on his hips, his waist, smoothing up his sides and to his face. Kendall almost presses his lips against Logan’s, heated breath intermingling as they both pant in time with the heavy bass permeating the air. He closes his eyes as Kendall’s lips scorch a path along Logan’s jaw, to his ear, down his throat. Kendall’s hands go back to Logan’s hips, digging in with bruising force as Kendall thrusts his hips against Logan, a moan vibrating against his face.
And Logan’s never wanted someone so badly in his life, his head full of Kendall’s scent, all sweat and soap and memories. Logan knows this is crazy, most likely wrong and will probably ruin what he’s had with Kendall since before he can remember, but it’s already so far out of the realm of normality, he thinks there’s no turning back from here. He can’t stop the words flying from his mouth, “Let’s go someplace we can be alone.”
They’re in the car, hips and thighs matched against each other, moving and groaning and writhing, Logan’s face buried in the crook of Kendall’s neck. Kendall’s hands find their way under Logan’s dress, palms filled by Logan’s ass and fabric and frills.
“Take off your pants,” Logan says, helping Kendall with the button, the heat from Kendall’s cock moving to Logan’s fingers. They struggle for a moment, but eventually get it right. Kendall pushes Logan’s skirt up to his hips as Logan pulls down his underwear, fisting his dick as soon as it is freed.
Kendall leaves his hands bunched in the fabric gathered around Logan’s waist and takes a long look at Logan as if to communicate What are we doing?
Logan wonders the same thing. He wants to, but he knows how despicable it would be to fuck his best friend in the backseat of a car, and he’s certainly not letting Kendall fuck him. So all he says is, “It’s okay,” before stretching out over Kendall again. His hands find their way under the shirt Kendall still wears, Logan giving himself the excuse he is only steadying himself, not searching out the thump, thump of Kendall’s heart, not yearning to feel Kendall’s breath speed through his lungs as he presses their naked cocks together. The pleasure curls in Logan's stomach at the sensation of intimate flesh on flesh, and he bites his lip to keep from crying out.
Kendall’s hands are on Logan’s face, smoothing through the fake hair before he fists the long strands, and Logan - for only a moment - wishes to take the stupid wig off, know the ferocity of Kendall’s grip on his scalp.
"God, so good, Logan," Kendall groans, his hands moving from Logan's wig to his backside as he erratically thrusts upward.
And, god, there’s so much heat, the friction between them, something swelling in Logan with each sound of passion Kendall makes. There’s this tug in his chest, too, this feeling he’s been ignoring, this ache that is only lessened when Kendall talks to him, touches him, gives him a knowing smirk. He can’t stand it; Kendall’s lips next to his ear, murmuring and whispering endearments as he bucks upward, matching Logan with each thrust.
“Flip over?” Logan asks, getting as far away from Kendall as he can in the confines of the car, crossing his arms over his chest and pinning down his fingers to keep from touching Kendall so much. Kendall is confused, but he does as Logan asks, looking at Logan over his shoulder. “I’m not going to fu-- you know. I’m not going to do that. To you.” Logan wants to slap himself for how he screws up his words, and Kendall simply looks away from him, hiding his face in his crossed arms.
Logan spits in his hand and pumps his erection. He moves behind Kendall and presses his dick between Kendall’s barely parted thighs, hands squeezing Kendall’s cheeks before he begins thrusting in the tight space.
“Touch yourself,” Logan breathes, knowing he can’t do it himself, no matter how much he wants to. He’s dreamt about it, more times than he’d care to admit, the heavy heat of Kendall’s cock in his hand, his mouth, other places even more intimate.
So Kendall grasps himself, the sounds he made earlier picking right up where they left off. The distance hampers them somehow, and Logan can pretend this is all about getting off, being a sick, kinky fuck who gets his jollies by letting his best friend watch him in girl clothes. He tries to do what Kendall always tells him to do and stop thinking, but it’s fucking hard for Logan, whose thoughts go so fast sometimes he can’t even talk.
He’s trying to concentrate on fucking the space between Kendall’s thighs, but his eyes travel up the strong line of Kendall’s back, his fingers itching to trace the cleft of Kendall’s ass. Logan’s thrusting goes erratic and the shaft of his dick starts teasing Kendall’s hole until one wayward movement has the tip pressing in harshly. Kendall jumps forward, and Logan moves back against the foggy windows, every bit of him wanting to grab Kendall’s hips and fuck into him.
There’s this moment where the only sound in the car is heavy breathing. Kendall’s hair is sweaty, matted against his forehead, beaded drops making their way down his temple and Logan wants to kiss the spots, take some of Kendall inside himself. Kendall places his forehead back onto his crossed arms, drops one leg from the seat to the floor and arches his back, moves his ass towards Logan.
“S-sorry. I wasn’t trying to… I didn’t do it on pur-“
“Do it,” Kendall says.
“What?”
“Come on.” He rolls his hips and Logan doesn’t think he even realizes he’s moving. “Do it.”
“K-Kendall, I can’t just-“
“Please,” he whispers, peeking at Logan with his cheek resting against his arms, eyes hooded as the yellow street light makes him fuzzy around the edges, like one of the million horrible/wonderful dreams Logan has. He can’t say no, not when Kendall looks straight into him. It’s always been a problem, the word “no” and Kendall.
Logan tries to put more spit on himself, but he doesn’t really have much, his mouth dry, lips chapped. And Kendall just blindly reaches out and finds Logan’s waist, pulls him forward until his hips are flush against Kendall’s ass, and it seems like neither boy cares anymore about anything but piecing together.
So Kendall’s body pulls Logan inside, and it’s hot and tight and needy and frenzied and neither boy remembers what is said or how long it lasts. It could be an hour, a minute, a second, but when Logan gets off, buried to the hilt inside Kendall, his chest flush across Kendall’s back, an arm wrapped around Kendall’s torso, all he knows is that he’s a goner.
When he’s come down, found his way back to a cold reality in the L.A. heat, his father’s voice buzzes in his head like a heart monitor has flat-lined.
My son won’t be a fag.
~oOo~
They go on for months, fucks few and far between, but the watching routine stays the same. Kendall feels like some kind of addict, old and used up. He wants more from Logan, but can’t say it out loud.
He knows better.
He’s stopped trying to kiss Logan's mouth long ago, instead letting Logan lead, do what he wants, whatever he’s comfortable with.
Kendall keeps dating Jo, sometimes wonders why, but knows it’s because he’s aching for affection. There’s no doubt he cares for her; she’s beautiful, fun, charming. She twines her fingers with his, presses against him because she wants to be close, not just because she wants to get off. Kisses his lips. Gives as much as she takes.
All of it makes Kendall feel like a piece of shit. He’s never pictured himself as the unfaithful type, but then he’s never pictured letting his best friend fuck him either. It almost seems to cancel it all out, just because it’s Logan. It’s only something else they do together, like hockey or singing or playing in the snow.
Logan will have to be the one to stop this, Kendall knows. They all look to Kendall-his friends, his family-as this pillar of strength, when inside he’s nothing but a coward. He won’t stop this thing, but doesn’t think he can push it forward when the risk is too great. Better to be used by Logan than not have him at all.
There’s this word though, poking around the edges of his thoughts, a word that’s always existed between them but has come to mean something different.
Kendall thinks it’s really stupid there is only one word for love when there are so many different kinds.
The months turn to a year or more, and when Jo leaves, Logan stalls everything altogether. Kendall had some kind of foolish hope her leaving would make things change, push things forward, and when it doesn't, Kendall's heartache is doubled.
They go on tour, and Logan ignores any texts or notes or whispers from Kendall that aren't "normal". It's driving Kendall crazy, because he knows Logan still wears the stockings Kendall got him, late at night on the bus when he thinks Kendall is fast asleep.
The few months on the road seem endless, a famine. Kendall has never felt so starved in his life. No touches, no lustful looks, no silk or satin or lace. But that's not even the worst part. The worst part is never seeing Logan's smile aimed at Kendall, no deepening dimples when Kendall makes a funny face or sticks out his tongue. It's like he's been tossed in a desert on a cold, cold night that never ends, nothing but rough sand to press against his skin, a lightless sky to keep him company.
Kendall misses his friend most of all.
Does Logan still love fried pickles? Does he still even want to be a doctor? Does he still turn bright red when watching a PG-13 sex scene? Kendall knows the tiny moans Logan makes when he kisses the back of Logan's knee. He knows about the freckle on Logan's hip shaped like Canada, but he doesn't know the simplest things about Logan anymore. Is his favorite color still mossy green? It hurts deep down inside, a dark spot only Logan once made bright.
When they make it home, Logan declaring out of the blue he wants to pick things up with Camille, Kendall decides he needs to resolve this tension with Logan. Because there's this roiling emotion in his chest, his gut, and he's damn near certain it's jealousy.
When the two guys first fell into this situation, Kendall didn't mind Logan's on again/off again relationship so much. But now that he's known so much more of his friend, the heat of Logan buried in Kendall feeling like some kind of fucked up alignment of stars, he doesn't care for the idea.
No one else can know Logan like Kendall does.
~oOo~
Logan sits reclined on his bed. He's watching these tiny rainbows on the ceiling, streaming in through his collection of prisms by the window. He wonders about the colors he can't see, wishes his eyes were strong enough to take them all in.
Sometimes -- most of the time -- things don't work out the way he wishes they would.
He should be elated he and Camille are back together; it was his intention. He's relieved, but relief and elation are two very different things. It was a shit move on his part, because he hasn't been thinking of Camille's feelings the entire time he's known her. He's using her just as sure as he is Kendall, but at least having a relationship with Camille makes him straight.
Kendall will get over it. It's not like they were dating or talking about their feelings or sharing anything more than a kink.
As far as for himself, Logan isn't so sure. There's this unease in his heart of things left unfinished, things he can't finish. There's a sense of loss too, because how can they ever be just best friends again?
The object of his troublesome thoughts enters the room, and Logan's gaze jerks from the ceiling to Kendall. The taller boy plops on the end of Logan's bed. Logan sits up.
"So you and Camille, huh?"
Logan nods tentatively, wondering what Kendall's point will be. "You and Lucy seem flirty," Logan counters, offense building steam.
"Nuh uh, not the same thing. You saw how James acted when he tho--"
"What does Camille have to do with anything?" Logan interrupts. He scoots as far from Kendall as he can, presses his back against the headboard.
Kendall laughs and the sound is short, mirthless, mocking. "Nothing, I guess."
Logan doesn't want to have this conversation with Kendall now; he doesn't want this conversation ever. It's been months, so why does Kendall care now? Logan fidgets, looks out the window and feels accused when Kendall has yet to make an accusation.
"I'm comfortable with Camille," Logan starts. "I know what's expected of me."
"Comfortable? Logan, does Camille know how you like to we--"
"No. Stop, okay? I don't think she'd mind anyway." Logan's cheeks are turning red, and it only embarrasses him further that he can feel them heating up.
Kendall nods. "You're probably right." He snorts. "I imagine she's really into roleplay."
"Don't laugh at her."
Kendall holds his hands up in defense. "I'm not. I like Camille. Simply making an observation.” He looks Logan up and down before adding, “You'll never tell her."
They're quiet for long moments because they both know Kendall is right. Logan again trains his eyes on the ceiling, the once steady rainbows divided chaotically as a breeze cuts through the palm tree outside.
"You've been avoiding me," Kendall deadpans, eyes boring a hole into the side of Logan's face; the shorter boy can feel it.
"Yes," he answers, eyes never leaving the ceiling.
"Why?"
"Because we can't get caught. And because we need to stop," Logan answers.
"How could you want to be with Camille, Logan? She kissed James. How can you tr--"
Logan's anger flashes like a bolt of lightning, and he meets Kendall's stare. "I've been messing around with you pretty much the whole time I've known her! Do you think that makes me feel good about myself? Do you think any of this does?"
"Well, we don't kiss do we? We get you off. That's about the extent of it, right? Let's not consider the fact there might be something more involved," Kendall all but growls, eyes dark and dangerous.
"Let's not," Logan agrees, voice just as low as Kendall's. He can't deal with analyzing Kendall's statement. There's no way he can ponder the idea Kendall might actually feel something for Logan. It's too much, too treacherous, and Logan knows he could never get it out of his head. It would be a waking nightmare, knowing Kendall is merely a few feet away, loving Logan, and not being able to touch him. So he takes Kendall's comment at face value.
"Unbelievable," Kendall mutters, covering his face with his hands.
There are several more awkward moments of silence, Logan looking away from Kendall again, before Kendall finally raises his head from his hands.
“You’re homophobic, Logan.”
“I am not. Don’t you remember when James decided to ‘experiment’,” Logan wiggles his fingers in the air, making quotes, “and I was totally okay with it.”
“Dude, think of the word. It literally means being scared of gay stuff, and you’re obviously scared of the gay in you,” Kendall says.
“I don’t have any gay in me,” Logan sneers. “I don’t suck dick or take it in the ass.”
Kendall rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because you’re so much straighter than I am. Just shut up, Logan. You know you would love to suck my dick.”
Logan does shut up, stares at Kendall as though he’s peeled away all Logan’s layers and he’s staring at every horrible thought that has floated through Logan’s mind. Logan doesn’t want to admit Kendall is right. On all counts.
"Come away with me," Kendall says, very nearly demands.
"What?"
"For a weekend. Dress up for me just one more time, and I'll leave it at that."
"Kendall, no, what are we supposed to say--"
"There's a Harry Potter convention next month in San Diego. We're old enough to go on our own, and it's the kind of thing we would've gone to do together back before--"
"So you want me to dress like Hermione or something?" Logan asks, quirking an eyebrow.
Kendall can't help it. He laughs. "No, we say that's where we're going."
"It's really not a good idea, Kendall. We need to move past this."
"You're right," Kendall says. Logan hears something strange in Kendall's voice, lowering an octave.
"I miss you, Logie," Kendall says.
"I bet you're wearing lacey panties right now," Kendall says. He crawls to Logan on his hands and knees, and Logan knows he should really stop him, so he encircles Kendall's wrists with his fingers, squeezes without force.
"You can pretend you don't want me to see," Kendall whispers, leaning in so close that Logan shivers at the heat coming from him.
"You can pretend you don't want to touch me," Kendall says, unbuckling Logan's belt, Logan's fingers still gripping Kendall's wrists.
"You can pretend you're pushing me away when you're really holding me in place," Kendall says.
Logan's breathing hitches and he gasps when Kendall's cool fingers grip his stiffening length. He can't say no. It's been so long.
"Pink today?" Kendall says, running a finger of his free hand under the fabric along Logan's hip. He leans in until his lips tickle Logan's ear with each breath.
"It's the middle of the day, Ken," Logan pants. "Anyone could--"
"I know you, Logan," Kendall whispers as he beings to jerk Logan's cock.
Within seconds, they are both panting, Logan's head pressing into the headboard until he sees stars. How can he imagine ever going without this? Kendall's learned fingers entice every last bit of reason and pride and propriety Logan possesses, and he can't ever seem to be mad about it. The shame though. The shame comes much later.
"Come away with me," Kendall says again, flicking his wrist and swiping a thumb over Logan's dick, forcing the other boy to moan.
Logan can't say no, can't say anything really, so he replies with a pleasured hiss which might be considered positive.
"I'll take that as a yes," Kendall says.
It's always been a problem, the word "no" and Kendall.
Part Five