The first time Logan comes in his pants its unintentional. He's sticky with sweat and his shirt clings to him unwarranted, he's flying on a rush of adrenaline and everything is bright. Kendall bounds into Logan's space, the feel of vehemence pushing him into Logan. The screams of the fans reverberate in his ears, and a permanent grin is plastered on Logan's face.
"That was amazing," Kendall huffs, at a loss for words.
Kendall permeates Logan's space, and he's practically on Logan's lap now, legs splayed wide. The dressing room is tiny, but the energy fuels an impromptu wrestling match. Kendall pulls Logan from his perch on the couch, thighs clenching around his torso. Logan's rebuttal was lazily executed as his fingers dig into the taut skin of Kendall's shoulder. As soon as Kendall lands a few minor punches, Logan tries, he really tries, mustering enough upper body strength to flip him over. He brackets Kendall with his knees, pinning his biceps to the floor. They're both sweaty now, eyes blazing and heartbeats rhythmically thrumming in fingertips.
Logan is caught off guard when he catches his breath, only to have it knocked out of him again when he feels Kendall sitting on his back. It's incessant really, the wrestling itself. It's some sort of outlet for the pent up tension and adrenaline. Kendall has no qualms about it, finding it appropriate to start fooling aroundanywhere. Logan doesn't complain, but he should since it always leaves him unkempt, hair mussed. Kendall likes to claim that he likes it better that way, that he likes Logan when he's disheveled. It leaves Logan confused because he doesn't even have a definitive label for them.
His thoughts come to an abrupt halt and Logan's breath is seemingly caught in his lungs when he realizes he can feel the line of Kendall's dick, hard and resting against his lower back. He instinctively arches against the bulge and he thinks that a moan sounds low in his throat. It's fucking horrifying. Logan realizes that Kendall has no intention of moving by the slow roll of his hips. Logan's face coats itself in a dusky pink when he comes to the realization that he could come like that, come from the drag of Kendall's dick along his ass as he ruts against the carpet.
He feels the pads of Kendall's fingers on his shoulder, urging him to roll over. Logan complies and looks at Kendall's face, slick with sweat and eyebrows drawn in concentration. He gasps when he feels the grating friction of Kendall against him. Logan arches into Kendall as he feels him biting into his neck. He's so far gone, everything blurry at the edges. Kendall reaches between them to squeeze Logan's erection and that sends him over. He arches off of the floor, hips rolling against Kendall and riding out his orgasm. He's panting, his face red and eyes glassy. Kendall presses against Logan with fervor, lips worried between his teeth and his eyes are shut. He feels Kendall writhe underneath him, hips canting as he releases.
"Fuck, Logan, I'm sorry," Kendall stumbles over his words, a shaky hand carding through his hair.
Logan kisses him on the cheek before Kendall could finish, excusing himself to the bathroom because really, he had nothing with Kendall and everything's fucked now. When he gets to the bathroom he sees that there's a huge wet spot on his jeans and he feels like he's fifteen again. A mangled sort of laugh leaves his throat, laden with remorse, and he leaves to go to his bunk hoping that maybe he curls into a small enough ball maybe he could disappear.