Title: Of All The Places (I Met You Here)
Disclaimer: I don't own Big Time Rush or Titanic.
*Note: Story switched P.O.V. during the voyage. Present day is told from Logan's P.O.V.
Present day, 1996
It's not every day you think so in depth to your past, trying to remember every little tiny detail of an event that happened so many years ago.
But as a sat in my chair, watching my children pack away my things while their own children played outside, that is exactly what I did.
I was leaving the home I'd lived in for decades to move into a group home more fit for those of my age. It was a bittersweet feeling to me, leaving the house I'd known for so many years. The house I'd raised my children in with my wife, the house in which I'd watched my children grow older and leave on their way, the house I'd held my wife's hand in as she passed on from this life.
I leaned back in my chair as I watched my children - now grown adults with children of their own - pack away the things I would be taking along with me, and shoving away those that I wouldn't.
My eyes were feeling a bit heavy as I watched, but I did not let myself fall under. I smiled as my eldest daughter rummaged through an old box of nonsense tucked in a cabinet I had long forgotten about.
"Dad?" My eyes flicked up to the face of my eldest daughter as she pulled a gold chain from the box, a small, heart-shaped gold piece hanging on the end of it.
"Yes, Kate?" I responded, my interest peaked.
"Do you want to keep this?" She asked me, my son now looking over from where he rummaged through another box to where Kate was holding the pendant.
"Bring it here," I motioned for her to come my way. She walked over from where she had been packing things away to bring the pendant to me, placing it gently in my outstretched hands.
The minute the chain touched my hands, I knew exactly what it was that I was holding.
As a young man, I was exceptionally good at keeping secrets. That talent was not lost as I'd aged.
I had been keeping quite the secret for a long time now.
I figured now may be the time to let the secret out.
"Do you fancy a story, Kate? Ian?" The eyes of both my children flashed to my face.
"Do we have time?" Ian asked, walking over to Kate and myself.
"We have plenty of time," I said. "And even if we didn't, I would tell the story anyways. It's about time the secret came out."
The faces of my children were confused, and I simply smiled at them as I tightened my fist around the pendant, and the secret began to come out.
April 10, 1912; Logan
"Logan, why are we waving?" Carlos looked to me, his voice thick with his Spanish accent, face bright and expectant. Though he questioned what we were doing, his hand never ceased its incessant waving.
"Waving goodbye to this city!" I shouted back, voice hoarse over the others booming across the deck of Titanic. "Wave goodbye to Liverpool, my friend, because we are never coming back!"
Carlos turned back to the waving crowds on the port, masses of family and friends bidding those aboard the ship a fond farewell. Carlos and I didn't have anybody to send us off within those masses; we simply waved and cheered and hooted for our own sort of satisfaction.
Liverpool hadn't been kind to myself and my Spanish friend in the time we'd spent there; we'd barely made pennies a day as street performers, singing songs we'd written when we were drunk at the early hours of the morning, only realizing they made absolutely no sense whatsoever when we'd take our perch in the street and begin to sing them.
It'd been beyond our wildest dreams to ever be aboard the Titanic, but after a streak of luck and God-given skill, we'd won the hand of poker that held the prize of two passes to take the RMS Titanic to New York City, where a fresh start was as crisp as the city air and the attitude of the people there.
Carlos's hand did not stop waving until the port at Liverpool was nothing but a tiny dot on the horizon, and the deck had cleared, all of the other passengers going to find their cabins, and get their fix of the amazing ship we were all aboard.
"It's amazing, Logan," Carlos sighed, turning away from the deep blue of the Atlantic.
"What is?" I asked, leaning against the steel white railing that ran across the whole deck of Titanic.
"The fact that we're here," Carlos clarified, a grin stretching his face. "The fact that us, two broke street performers, managed to get here."
I laughed, throwing my head back and taking in the salty air of the Atlantic Ocean. "We can do anything, my friend," a grinned back at the Spanish boy beside me. "We're only nineteen, sure, but we can do anything." To further emphasize my point, I turned to the water, propping a foot up on the bottom of the four-barred railing, pushing myself up to that I leaned over the top. My arms spread wide as the smile on my face, I told the world:
"I am Logan Mitchell, I am aboard the ship of dreams, I am nineteen years old, from Wisconsin, poor as all shit, and I can do anything!"
April 10th, 1912; James
"Have you seen Reisa yet, dear?" I turned from the suitcase I was unpacking to see my mother, Brooke Diamond, standing in the doorway of my first class cabin.
"No, Mother," I replied, turning back to the clothing I was unpacking. Slacks, suspenders, vests, shirts, ties, blazers, and formal jackets were all splayed out on the bed I would have during this voyage. My mother clicked her tongue, pulling my attention back to her.
"She is your fiance, James," Brooke chided. "She is a delicate woman. She should not be left unattended on a ship as big as this." I nodded, I couldn't argue with what my mother told me ever. Even if I wanted to.
My mother was never one to be ordered around by a man; after she'd discovered my father had been having an affair with another woman half his age when I was only seven years old, she had up and left him one night, taking me and all of our possessions, divorcing him the next month, and taking half his wealth. A strong woman she was indeed.
As a single mother, however, Brooke had not been able to keep what we had taken from my father from dwindling; and that's exactly what it was doing - dwindling. My marriage to my fiance, Reisa Ismay, the daughter of the very wealthy Joseph Bruce Ismay, would guarantee our fortune would be restored after the marriage was final.
Reisa was a pleasant woman. Petite, with sunny blond hair and ice blue eyes. A pretty little thing she was. It wasn't exactly love between us, or at least to me. I was fairly sure Reisa was completely in love with me, but I was simply marrying her to ensure my mother would live comfortably for the rest of her life. It was the least I could do for her, for everything she'd done for me.
"I'll go find her, then," I said, turning to close my suitcase before turning back and moving forward to exit my cabin.
"She's probably in her cabin," Brooke told me as I walked out. "Joseph's cabin is two-sixteen. I'd expect Reisa's to be two-seventeen or two-eighteen."
I nodded again, taking off down the hallway of the cabins.
I walked down the corridors sluggishly, not at all thrilled really about going to search for Reisa. I wasn't exactly watching where I was going, watching my feet, and I was shockingly surprised when I ran into somebody, or they ran into me, more or less.
"Oh damn," the boy scampered back, rubbing his shoulder. "Sorry about that."
"It's fine," I assured him, eyes still on my feet.
"Hey, uh, do you know where the third class cabins are by any chance?" The boy asked, and I looked up at him in surprise.
The answer I could've given him stuck in my throat before it had the chance to get out.
The boy looked no older than eighteen, possibly nineteen, the same age as I. He had large brown eyes, short feathery hair, and a crooked grin that showed off impressively perfect teeth for a third class passenger. He had creamy pale skin, and was clothed in what looked like secondhand shop purchases, but the boy pulled them off nonetheless. His single luggage was dropped by his foot, that old and battered also.
I'd never stared at a man for as long as I'd stared at him.
"Uh, hello?" The boy waved a hand in my face. "You dead?"
"I'm not dead," I snapped, and the boy pulled his hand away from my face quickly. "And you're in the first class cabins right now. Third class is on the other side of the ship."
"Damn it," the boy cursed. "Well thanks, umm - "
"James," I said quickly. "James Diamond."
"James," he stuck out his hand. "Logan Mitchell."
I grabbed the outstretched appendage. "It's nice to meet you, Logan Mitchell," I smiled at the boy. "Perhaps I will see you around the ship another time."
"Perhaps," Logan grinned that crooked, toothy grin, my thoughts going oddly blank as Logan dropped my hand, picked up his luggage, then turned and walked away with a small wave over his head.
"Who was that?" I jumped when the voice came from behind behind me, turning quickly to see Reisa coming up to me, hands tucked in a muff from who the hell knows where.
"Oh," I said, quickly switching my surprised expression for a warm smile. "Just some lost third class passenger, that's all."
"What was a third class passenger doing around these cabins?" Reisa pondered aloud. I shrugged my shoulders, holding an arm out in invitation. She pulled a hand from the muff to slip her arm through mine before tucking it back into the furry glovelet.
"Where to?" I asked with a quirked eyebrow.
"Around the deck?" Reisa offered. I agreed with a grin.
And for some reason I couldn't place if I tried, I kept secretly hoping to catch another glimpse of that miniscule third class passenger, Logan Mitchell.
April 11th, 1912; Logan
"James Diamond," I said, strolling down the deck of Titanic with Carlos by my side. It was late, and from what I could see, Carlos and I were the only people strolling around the cabin. The rich were probably at some fabulous 'first-night-aboard' dinner party, the poor families tucked in their cabins for the night.
"Sounds like some rich boy trust-fund baby kind of name," Carlos snorted, tossing the cigarette he'd been smoking over the railing and into the ocean below, turned black by the night.
I shrugged. "He seemed nice enough," Carlos snorted again; he was never one to believe that the children of the aristocrats of Europe could ever be more than selfish and snotty brats. And he was right - most of the time. But James had just seemed different somehow.
I just sighed the thought off, veering from the path Carlos and I were walking, drifting over to the rails and leaning over slightly. I inhaled deeply, taking in the salty air.
"Don't lean too far over," a voice said from behind me, smug with cleverness. I turned, catching the gaze of the man I'd met earlier. Carlos, who was standing beside me, threw me an incredulous look, muttering a quick, "I'll see you later," before striding quickly away in the direction me came.
"Hey," I said, trying to sound casual.
"Hey," James said, wandering from he had been standing to where I was against the rail. "What're doing out here so late?"
I grinned. "I could ask you the same thing," I shot back smugly.
"I supposed you could," James smirked back. "But I'm honestly curious."
"I was on a little walk with Carlos," I shrugged. "What were you doing out here so late?"
"I was just taking some time to myself," James said. "After I dropped my fiancee off at her cabin, I decided to come back out for a little walk by myself."
"Fiancee?" I said, mentally cringing at the fact my voice came out sounding slightly dejected.
"She's a nice girl," James sighed, leaning against the rail, head lolling back. "Of course I could have anybody I wanted, but Mother insists I marry Reina."
"Your mother insists?" I pressed.
"Our fortune is dwindling," James said, his expression curving into something I couldn't quite make out. "And marrying Reina will ensure we don't run out of money," James's head came back forward, and his expression was perplexed. "And I really should not be telling this to somebody I just met."
I laughed at that. "It's not like I could tell anybody of importance. The only other person I know on this whole ship is Carlos."
James threw me a crooked grin. "I suppose that's so," his hand dug into his pocket, pulling out a pocket watch. His expression shifted again. "It's quite late," he mumbled, "I really should be getting back. I'll see you around, Logan Mitchell."
"I'll see you around, James Diamond."
April 12th, 1912; James
Intriguing, that's what he was.
Logan Mitchell. I'd met him briefly once, talked to him briefly as well. But it seemed he was constantly on my mind.
He was intriguing simply because of the way he was. He looked poor as all hell, but he held himself like a millionaire. He knew but two people on the ship, but yet he walked around like everybody knew who he was.
And most of all, Logan Mitchell was intriguing because he had captured my attention like no other had before him.
"James?" I snapped out of the daze I must've fallen into when Reisa spoke.
"Are you alright?" Reisa asked, concern evident on her pretty features.
"I'm fine, darling," I assured her with a smile. "Why do you ask?"
"You seem distant, that is all," Reisa said.
"I'm only thinking," I murmured.
"May I ask what about?"
"About that boy I met," I told her.
"That poor one who you met yesterday?" Reisa said, sounding a bit sour. "What's so special about him that he claims your thoughts while you are having lunch with your fiancee?"
I honestly couldn't answer her; Logan was simply captivating. There was an uncomfortable silence, Reisa's face changing from slightly sour to angry, to slightly furious.
"My own fiancee is more captivated by another man than he is by me," she growled. I was stunned at her crass attitude; a woman of her status should not be of such. "Am I such a terrible woman that you need to think of others while you are with me?"
Reisa was standing now, pulling her shawl tighter around her small shoulders. I tried to reason with her. "Sit, Reisa, you are causing a scene,"
"A scene?" She hissed, her face curling into an indredulous expression. "I will show you a scene!"
And with that, she swatted the tea cup she had been sipping out of off the table to the floor where it landed with a smack, shattering into tiny porcelain pieces, the tea left in it splattered on the floor.
"Reisa!" I stood now, angry as well. "You do not cause such a scene in front of other people!"
The others who had been enjoying lunch in the same hall as we had stopped to stare, their meals completely forgotten in lieu of the scene my fiancee was causing.
"I will cause any scene I want, James," Reisa spat. I was taken aback by her tenacity. She was being unacceptable.
Reisa smacked another cup off the table - mine this time - before huffing, pulling her shawl tight again, and storming away, ignoring my calls for her to come back.
I sunk back down into my chair with an exasperated sigh, still feeling eyes on me, the only thought on my mind being that Logan Mitchell never would have done such a thing.
April 12th, 1912; Logan
I honestly didn't know why I was out here, walking slowly around the enormous deck with the tiny hope I'd run into him.
I'd talked with him but two short times, but yet he refused to leave my conscious mind. Hell, he even claimed my subconscious.
But I refused to acknowledge the dream I had of James Diamond last night.
I knew it was wrong, dreaming of somebody I'd just met, somebody much to good for me, let alone another man in that way, but the dream had imbedded itself in my mind, digging into my brain and not letting go.
I was almost able to feel it physically, the way his fingers felt trailing over my body, the way his lips caressed my neck.
The way it felt when he'd sunk in deep, how my heart fluttered when he'd whispered my name.
The way it's had felt as he kissed me as I let go, humming in pleasure as he followed behind.
But most importantly, the way it had felt when I woke up to sticky undergarments, and a feeling in my chest I couldn't explain as I realized I had been dreaming.
Too absorbed in my thoughts, I hadn't been watching where I was going, not looking up until a soft body was colliding into mine, a woman's voice talking angrily in my ear.
"You," the woman hissed, he icy blue eyes staring intensely into mine. "You stay away from my fiance."
"I'm sorry ma'am, but -"
"You are Logan Mitchell, correct?"
"Then I have the correct person," I raised an eyebrow at the woman, her tenacity being something I had yet to see in another before her. "Stay away from James Diamond. Or I swear to you, I will have you arrested."
It clicked then, who this petite woman was. "Reisa Ismay," I couldn't keep the smirk off my face.
She visibly recoiled when I said her name, obvious not expecting me to know it. "He told you my name?"
"He told me a lot about you, actually," I said, coming off the least bit cocky. My statement was a bit of a lie, but she needn't know that.
"Tell me what he told you."
I laughed. "Excuse me miss, but I'm pretty sure that there is no need to tell you of my private conversations with a friend."
Reisa sneered, her pretty face contorting into an ugly expression. "Your friend?" she hissed, "You cannot even consider a man of his class a friend, you invalid."
Again, Reisa's tenacity had me surprised.
"Invalid?" I raised an eyebrow. "I don't think a woman should be speaking to a man in such a way, regardless of her level in society."
Reisa scoffed, throwing her blond hair over her shoulder. She squared said shoulders, giving a final warning of "stay away from James," in a huff before stomping away.
I watched her go, disappearing into the crowd of other passengers enjoying the day on the deck. The view was really breathtaking, it was.
The way the icy blue water broke around the ship, the way the birds ahead preened ever so, the occasional ice burg floating along the surface.
I stopped my walking along the deck to lean against the rail, closing my eyes and breathing in deep, the crisp air flooding my senses.
My peace was interrupted though, when a man, dressed in what looked like a waiter's uniform, came running up to me, what looked like a note clutched in his hand.
"Sir, are you Mr. Logan Mitchell?" He asked, huffing as if he's been running for a time.
"Yes, that's me," I said, turning to him. "Why do you ask?"
"I have a note for you, sir," the man held out his hand, and I snatched the envelope out of his hand. Mr. Logan Mitchell was written elegantly on the front.
"Thank you," I said, the man nodding before turning back the way he came.
I stuck my finger under the sealed flap of the envelope, ripping the paper gently, as to preserve the note inside.
Logan Mitchell, it read.
I know this may be crass and much too forward of me to ask this of somebody I have just met, but would you ever be interested in accompanying me to the Captain's dinner tomorrow night at 8 p.m.? It shall be a pleasant time, I promise. Reisa's father demands she stay in for the night because of certain antics at a brunch this morning, so she will not be a problem. I would much appreciate it if you would do me the extreme pleasure of being my guest.
Meet me at the main dining hall at 8 sharp if you wish to attend. I will understand if you do not.
Logan swallowed hard, the notes quivering as a result of the shaking of his hand.
He didn't know if it was appropriate to go with James to this dinner, not for the fact he was going to be much out of his element, and the guest of another man, but he couldn't deny what the fluttering in his chest had decided.
April 13, 1912; James
It had been a complete idiotic thing for me to do. What had even been going through my head when I wrote that ridiculous not to a boy I'd only a day ago, and spoken to but twice - thrice, if the note was counted as communication - asking him to accompany me to a dinner reserved for the wealthy couples aboard the ship.
I knew the note was crass, but I couldn't stop the hope that, as I stood at the bottom of the stairway that led to the main dining hall, I would see Logan walking down to me, dressed in the nicest clothes he had, smiling brightly, making my heart flutter in the odd way it did whenever Logan Mitchell looked at me.
I checked my watch, the large hand inching more and more towards the twelve as the small hand crawled towards the eight. I sighed, tucking the watch back into my pocket. He wasn't coming.
With one last longing look up the stairway, I turned to leave, but a shout of my name had me spinning back.
"James!" My eyes met with Logan's, and he grinned, my heart doing that unreasonable little flip it did whenever Logan flashed me that smile.
"Logan," I breathed, taking in his full appearance as he descended down the stairway.
He wore a black tweed blazer, a white shirt tucked into khaki colored slacks, and black dress shoes. I could see the brown suspenders he wore as the blazer swished to the side as he hurtled down the stairs.
Logan looked beautiful.
"Am I late?" Logan said, brow creasing in concern. I cleared my throat, trying to erase the thoughts of how dashing Logan looked in order to form a coherent sentence.
"No, no," I said, smiling. "You're just on time, actually."
"Good," Logan said nervously, smoothing his blazer. "Am I dressed appropriately? I didn't know, seeing as this is a captain's dinner and -"
"You look fantastic," I reassured him. I held out my arm, an invitation for him to take it. "Let's go in, shall we?"
Logan stared at my arm like it was some kind of diseased animal before looping his through hesitantly. I wish I knew what was going through his head.
"Hold your head up, and act like you own the place," I told Logan, my hand pausing on the doorknob to the dining hall. "And nobody will question you."
Logan nodded, taking a deep breath. I offered him a reassuring smile before pressing down on the knob, the doors swinging open.
April 13, 1912; Logan
I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding as the doors to the dining room had swung open, and nobody had even looked up from their conversations as James and I walked in. I was sure they'd all stare; I was sure they'd all be ridiculing me the minute I walked in, arm slung around James's. But they didn't.
Although I did pull my arm from James's. I wasn't too sure of the appropriateness of that.
James gave me a look. "Are you okay?"
I nodded. "Yeah, I just," I bit my lip. I just what? "I just don't think I should be on your arm. I'm not your date, after all."
He laughed. "True." He gestured towards the tables sprawled around the intricately decorated dining hall. "Shall we sit?"
"Where?" I asked, feeling sheepish once the question was out.
"At a table," James grinned, and I could feel my cheeks heating in a flush.
"I know that," I snapped back. "Will we get our own?"
James looked down to his feet. "About that -"
"Don't tell me we're sitting with your family," my voice came out more bitter than I'd planned.
"My apologies," James murmured, looking back to me. "But I couldn't get us our own table."
I bit my lip, nerves showing through. "Do you think it was a good idea to invite me here, then?" I asked, "If we're sitting with your family I mean."
James smiled reassuringly, nodding his head. "It's probably the best idea I've ever had."
I tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in my chest at the tone he said that in.
"If you say so," I mumbled as he pulled me around the other diners, who were finally beginning to stare at the odd duo we were, maneuvering through the dining hall.
I held my breath as James pointed towards a table, informing me that his mother was sitting there along with his uncle and two cousins.
Each person at the table had the same expression on their faces as we approached - sharp, unemotional, and unamused.
"James Diamond," James's mother's voice was cold as ice and completely unwavering as she addressed her son, eyes locked on me. "Who is this?"
"This is Logan Mitchell, mother," James told her, his tone morphing to match hers. "He's a friend of mine. Since I couldn't use my plus one on Reisa, I asked Logan to accompany me."
The female Diamond's face remained hard as she took in my appearance, and I couldn't help but try to shrink into myself.
That woman's gaze was like a dagger.
James seemed to sense my unrest, as he reached over to touch his hand to mine, the gesture so minute it could have been seen as a mistake.
But I knew it was done purposely.
"Where did this boy come from?" The woman asked harshly, the question obviously meant for me, although it was directed towards James.
"Liverpool, ma'am," I told her, trying to make my voice sound confident. "But I was born and raised in Wisconsin. I hope to return to my hometown after we dock."
The matriarchal Diamond looked me up and down, her hazel eyes staying hard. "Well then, Logan Mitchell," she said. "It's nice to meet you. I'm James's mother, Brooke Diamond." she gestured to the two men sitting beside her. "And this is James's uncle, Liam Diamond, and his two sons Ronan and Royce."
"Nice to meet you," I said, stepping forward with my hand out. Liam shook first, giving me a warm hello, Ronan and Royce second, both with a subtle nod.
James let out an uneasy breath, pulling out a chair and sitting before motioning for me to do the same.
"That went well," he murmured sarcastically, voice low enough that only I heard.
I smiled back at him, nodding in casual agreement.
April 14, 1912; James
It was passed midnight when Logan and I finally managed to get away from the captain's dinner, away from my drunk, galavanting uncle and cousins who insisted that Logan and I drink as well.
I'd kindly denied each drink they'd pushed at me, urging Logan to do the same.
"That was fun," Logan grinned at me as we walked along the corridors that lead down to the third-class cabins.
"It was," I grinned back at the boy, my heart doing a little squeeze as I took in his happy expression.
Logan seemed utterly thrilled to have spent that time with me, and I knew right then that I didn't want to say goodbye to him quite yet.
"Logan?" I pulled him to a stop in the corridor. "This may be crass of me, but would you like to come back to my cabin with me? I have one completely to myself, and it gets a little lonesome at times."
My voice had shrunken to a whisper as I finished, Logan's eyes bugging wide. "C-can I really?"
My face lit up unexpectedly, and my answer was quicker than lightning. "Of course."
In the most timid move I'd ever seen, from a woman or a man, Logan reached out and twined his fingers with mine, eyes watching my face the whole time. When I squeezed his fingers, he smiled and gave a little, "Then I'd love to."
The journey around the corridors back to my cabin was quiet, Logan and I walking in comfortable silence as our intertwined hands swung lightly. Logan blushed a vivid crimson every time his eyes would drift down to our hands, making me smile at him.
I don't know why I didn't pull my hand away from his as soon as he's twined his fingers with mine, and the only answer I'd come up with as we walked seemed like the only rational one of those that had flickered through my mind.
I didn't want to pull my hand away from Logan's.
I knew it was wrong, walking hand in hand with another that was not my fiancee, let alone another man. But the way my fingers fit in between the spaces of Logan's just felt to enormously right, that the fact it was wrong seemed completely inconsequential.
I felt Logan's grip tighten as we walked down the hall of the first class cabins, and I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. He smiled shyly up at me, and I gave him a smile back.
"This is mine," I told him, dropping his hand only to open the door of my cabin, and usher him in.
"Wow," Logan breathed as he entered, taking in the intricately designed interior of the cabin. "This is...so much better than the third class cabins."
I laughed at that. "Of course it is," I grinned. "It is a first class cabin, after all."
Logan smacked my arm. "Quiet, you."
I rolled my eyes, wandering over to the small couch against the wall, and sitting down. Logan continued to explore, his fingers dancing over the designs on the furniture, until he came across the one thing I'd stashed in the corner.
He fingered the case lightly, a small smile gracing his features. "Do you play?"
I shrugged. "A bit," I said. He continued to dance his fingers along the case.
"Would you...would you play for me?"
I felt a smile stretch me features. "Sure," I agreed. "Bring it here."
He nodded, picking up the case and carrying it to me. I took it from him, laying it on my lap and opening it, pulling out the instrument inside. I pushed the case to the floor, positioning the guitar the way it should be, beginning to strum a tune only I knew.
"What're you playing?" Logan asked curiously as I got deeper into the tune. "I don't recognize it."
I bit my lip. "It's um, an original piece."
And it was. An original piece I'd written the day I'd met Logan.
An original piece about Logan.
"It's nice," Logan sighed, sitting down on the couch beside me. "What inspired it?"
I'd really been hoping that question wouldn't come up. "Well," I said, trying to ease into it. "I met this amazing person just four days ago, and I can't seem to stop thinking about them. I know I shouldn't be thinking of them like I am, but I just can't get them out of my mind."
Logan eyes widened as he caught on. "This was inspired by me?"
"J-James," he stuttered, suddenly losing the ability to look at me. I stopped strumming, panic beginning to well up inside of me. I knew I should've lied and told him Reisa inspired it. Or perhaps a stray dog I'd seen wandering around the deck. "I don't know what to say."
"I'm sorry," I blurted out, trying to fix what I'd done. "I shouldn't have done this. It's not appropriate, I'm engaged, you're a man, I shouldn't feel how I feel about you. We just met, and I can't love another man, I'm engaged, and it's wro-"
Logan's lips collided onto mine, effectively silencing my nervous rant. He kissed me with a desperate emotion, his hands weaving into my hair, shaking intensely.
He pulled away a split second after the kiss had started, his eyes frantic, body quivering worse than it had been. "I-I'm sorry, I don't know w-what that was, I shouldn't have done that, I'll l-leave now-"
It was my turn to crash my lips onto his to silence nervous blabber.
Logan gasped wildly, pressing himself as close to me as he could get with the guitar in the way.
I cradled his face in my hands, kissing him deeply, using the gasp he emitted to sneak my tongue into his mouth, tentatively exploring the foreign cavern.
He whimpered, his own tongue coming out to tease mine as it danced around his mouth.
The need for air soon made itself known, and I pulled from the kiss with a slight pop.
Logan's face was cherry red as he sucked in a breath, and I figured mine wasn't much different.
"What was that?" Logan asked, voice barely a whisper.
"A kiss," I said.
"I-I know," he bit his lip. "But w-why did you kiss me?"
"I could ask you the same thing," I quirked an eyebrow. Logan pouted, and I sighed. "I kissed you because it felt right, Logan. I don't have any other explanation."
It took Logan a moment to respond. "I did feel right."
I pulled Logan's hand into mine. "I can't explain why, I can't explain it in a way that makes it so that it's not wrong, but all I know is that I can't stop thinking about you. I can't stop thinking about holding you close to me, kissing you like I just did all of the time, getting to know you more as I fall harder for you. And I've already fallen so damn hard, Logan."
Logan's mouth opened to respond, but a loud pounding on the door cut him off.
"James Diamond," I froze, recognizing the voice coming through the door as Joseph Bruce Ismay, Reisa's father.
"Logan, Logan," I rushed, hopping off the couch and pulling Logan up as well. "We have to go."
"W-why?" Logan stuttered in question, but I hadn't a chance to answer before Joseph was pounding on the door again.
"Open this door, James," Joseph said, his voice stern and commanding. "We need to speak about your engagement to my daughter."
I ignored the father of my fiancee, ushering Logan to the back of the cabin, where I knew another exit was. "We need to go now."
"Why?" Logan urged again.
"I'll tell you when we're away from here," I told him. "We just need to get out of here."
I pushed Logan through the cabin until we reached the second door. I put my hand on the doorknob, pressing down slowly as the door opened. "Be quiet, and don't stop walking until we're around the corner, okay?"
Logan nodded in agreement.
I edged the door open just enough for Logan to shimmy out, and for me to follow him. I kept my eyes locked in the man at the other door, who was still pounding on it. I didn't bother to close the door Logan and I snuck out of before I was urging Logan to opposite way, away from Joseph and closer to our break away.
We were close, so close to our escape when I heard the sounds of Joseph giving up - an angered sigh and one final knock on the door of my cabin. I hadn't been expecting, however, for Joseph to turn our way before we had a chance to disappear around the corner.
"James Diamond!" Joseph called out, and then I was grabbing Logan's hand, pulling him along with a quick command of "Run!"
I didn't look back to see if Joseph was pursuing us, simply dashing around corners with Logan in tow.
"Why are we running?" Logan asked breathlessly as we turned another corner, heading towards a random door that I hoped led to somewhere other than the cabins.
"That's Reisa's father!" I informed him, pulling him fast to the door, ripping it open and running down the stairs presented.
I tugged Logan down the stairs, pleased when I found we were in the cargo area of the ship. I pulled Logan over to a car parked in the huge space, thanking whoever stopped to listen that the door was open, before shoving Logan inside and hopping in as well. I slammed the door shut, looking out the window to see if Joseph had pursued us.
"I think we're safe," I said, grinning down at Logan, who was laying on the seats below me.
Logan grinned back at me, before bursting out into a fit of elated laughter.
I joined in, the sound urging out my own chuckles. I didn't notice my face had gotten closer to Logan's until I opened my eyes, and we were nearly nose to nose.
"Logan," I breathed, and his lips were pressed to mine again, in a hot, furious, needy kiss.
I kissed him back hungrily, my hands pressing into the leather of the seat on either side of his body.
We broke from the kiss, my hands drifting to linger on Logan's body before moving to pull away.
Logan's hands moved to grip my wrist, stopping their retreat. He looked me dead in the eyes, face flushed, expression serious as death.
"Put your hands on me, James."
April 14, 1912; Logan
The words had rushed out of my mouth before I could stop them. The minute they were out, James's face froze in shock, the hand I had wrapped around said man's wrist tightening in anticipation of his reaction.
"Logan," James's breath washed over me as he finally spoke. "Logan, I-"
"I'm sorry," I blurted out quickly, attempting to fix what I had caused. "I shouldn't have said that-"
James's lips crashed down onto mine, and an odd sense of deja-vu washed over me.
James pulled away from the kiss only far enough to speak, his lips hovering just above mine. "I want to put my hands on you."
I gasped as his words sunk in.
My response was as quiet whisper, James only able to hear it because of our proximity.
"Then touch me."
Everything after those words seemed to move in a blur - before I could comprehend the actual consequences of my words, James was all over me.
His lips on mine, his hands over my body, his own body pressed flush to mine, the heat of the moment everywhere.
He kissed me in earnest, like we had but minutes together before the world ended.
Our lips fit together like they were molded for the others;' James's tongue darting out to trace the seam of my own. I gasped, and the slick appendage slid inside, pushing into mine and coaxing it into a dance I had yet to do with another besides James.
I hadn't a thought in my mind besides how good it felt to have James on top of me, how wonderful it felt to have him kissing me, until his hands slipped under my blazer, attempting to push it from my shoulders.
This was so wrong.
James was engaged. And I was a man. He was a man. We should not have even kissed. He should not be undressing me.
I should not be letting him.
I should not be panting as he unbuttons my shirt, kissing every inch of new skin exposed. I should not be sighing in pleasure as his hands splay across my bare torso, tracing the contours of my chest, creating trails on my stomach.
But I cannot bring myself to protest him as he strips himself of his own jacket and shirt, throwing them to the front of the car to join my own, before pressing his bare top against mine.
I cannot bring myself to protest him as he tugs off my belt, popping the button of my slacks and shimmying them down my thighs as I lift my hips for him to take them completely off.
The only thing I do is kiss him furiously when he takes his own trousers off, then tugs at my briefs, pulling them off as well, and I'm completely exposed to him.
"Beautiful," he said as he pulled away, trailing one of his fingers along over my cheek, then tracing my lips. "Absolutely gorgeous."
I tried to protest him, because really, James is the gorgeous one in this situation, but he kissed me again before I could.
James pulled away from the kiss before it had a chance to get heated, as if he knew I had meant to protest his words. He didn't say a word as he brought his fingers to my lips, teasing them open.
I parted my lips, letting his fingers inside. I coated them liberally, seeing as I had quite a good notion of where they would be going in just a moment.
I had no experience whatsoever with what I was doing with James at the moment, so it was expected that I would be more than nervous when his fingers slid back out passed my lips, and he trailed them down my shaking figure to the entrance into my body. I gasped when one finger prodded the spot, and James nuzzled my cheek tenderly.
"It's okay, it's okay," James murmured, voice soothing. "Relax, Logan, it's okay."
And with that, the finger James had prodded me with sunk in deep, tearing a desperate cry of pain from my body. "I'm sorry, Logan, I'm sorry," James kissed the corners of my eyes where the tears were welling up, voice shaking as he tried to soothe me.
I took deep breaths as he moved his finger about, slowly getting used to the feeling of it inside of me. I let out a breathy moan as the digit explored, but the moan turned into another cry of pain as James added a second finger.
"Ow, James," I bit out, my lower regions stinging. "It hurts."
"I know, baby," James's eyes met mine, the hazel orbs full of concern and regret. "It's gonna get better though. It's gonna get better."
I found that James was true to his word when after a while, the digits inside of me didn't cause pain in my lower regions, but thick waves of pleasure instead. James's fingers suddenly crooked up, hitting something inside that made my vision blur, and intense waves of euphoria to wrack my body. "James!" I bit out in a broken whine.
"Good?" James questioned breathlessly.
"More than," I said.
James continued to abuse the spot inside of me, scissoring his fingers to prepare me for what was to come. I whined when his fingers slipped out, but that whine morphed into a groan of happiness when James pressed his lips to mine, his sweaty chest pressed flush to my own.
"Logan," James murmured against my lips, hands trailing gently down my body. "Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? If you give me your virtue, you can't take it back -"
"I'm sure." And I was. I wanted James to have my virtue. I wanted him to have everything.
James bit his lip and nodded. His hands left my body to hook under the band of his underwear, pulling them down his legs in a fluid movement. My breath caught in my throat as I took him in, his body completely exposed to my eyes, as mine was to his.
"James..." My hand reached out to run along his bare chest, my eyes admiring every inch of his bare body. He was absolutely gorgeous. There was no other way to describe him.
James spat into his hand, rubbing it over his length in a crude attempt at lubrication. My breath hitched as he moved between my legs, wrapping one around his waist. He kissed me warmly, one hand coming to twine with mine and holding it above my head, and then he pushed forward, gritting his teeth and pushing slowly as he bottomed out.
My body locked down, trying to push away the pain of him entering him. "L-Logan," James gasped out, "Loosen up. R-relax, for the love of god, p-please."
My breaths were coming out in harsh pants and my jaw was locked almost painfully, but yet somehow I managed to loosen up enough for James to complete his slide in, waiting for me to adjust once he was fully seated.
I attempted to relax my whole body around him, going piece until my whole body had loosened. I shifted my hips, gasping when I felt James rub against me from the inside. "Jaaaaames," I moaned out. "Y-you can move."
James's hand tightened around mine as he pulled out slowly, pushing in just as gently. He repeated the process, and after three or so thrusts, my body was buzzing, begging for more. "Faster, James, go faster."
"Are you sure?" James asked, and I almost laughed out loud.
"I'm sure James, just please."
The hand that wasn't intertwined with mine went to my hip, squeezing the flesh so hard it bubbled through his fingers, pulling out and slamming back in much faster than he had before. I cried out at that spot inside me was struck, James's name spewing from my lips like a mantra.
"Logan, ngh, Logan you're beautiful," James grunted as he moved inside of me. "So good, so good."
My mouth hung open in pleasure as James sunk in and out repeatedly, hitting the spot inside that made me see stars on every go. It wasn't long before I felt an unfamiliar tightening in my lower abdomen, but I knew exactly what it meant. "Close, James, so close,"
"Me too, Logan," James panted, the hand that was on my hip coming up to snake in between our bodies and grasp my neglected length, stroking me in time with his erratic thrusts.
My eyes rolled back into my head, James's name spilling from my lips over and over as I came, my climax splattering on James's fists and both our stomachs. James let out a long groan, and I felt the flood of his release inside of me.
James collapsed on top of me, his weight causing my breath to rush out in a whoosh of air. James heard, moving off of me slightly as he pulled out.
"Sorry," he smiled, and I laughed.
"It's okay," I leaned in to kiss him. It was quick, but full of admiration. "That was...that was amazing, James."
"I love you, Logan."
"I love you," James repeated. "It may seem petty to think so after knowing you for such a short time, but I know I love you. From the minute you bumped into me in the hallway of the cabins, my every thought has been of you. I would find myself strolling the deck, just hoping to perhaps catch a glimpse of you, or maybe, if I was lucky, I'd get to talk to you again. When I kiss you, I feel something I've never felt before. And just now, what we did together, I'm absolutely sure of it. I love you, Logan Mitchell."
"James," my voice was barely a whisper. I felt as if my ears were deceiving me. It was like James had read my mind, taking everything I had been thinking for the past two days and saying it out loud. "I love you too."
James eyes brightened, and a grin spread across his face. "You do?"
"I do -"
My words were interrupted as the door to the car we were in swung open, and James was ripped from me. I shrieked, trying to crawl to the other side of the car, but a hand closed over my ankle, yanking me out of the car as well before I had to chance to get away.
"Joseph, please!" I heard James call, and I turned from where I had fallen hard on the ground to see the man James had named as Reisa's father hovering over a him as he lay nude, the man's hand lifted to strike.
It came down with a sharp crack. James cried out in pain.
"Is this who you abandoned my daughter for?" Joseph snarled, his voice laced with fury. "Another man? You have tarnished the honor of both your family name and mine to bed another man?"
Joseph struck James again, James's head whipping to the side at the blow. James had no time to recover before Joseph was striking again.
I couldn't bear to watch it.
"Please, stop!" I cried out when Joseph raised his arm to hit James again. "Please, don't hurt him! It's not his fault! I seduced him. It was me. He didn't want to dishonor anybody, but I made him. Please, don't hurt him. Hurt me."
Joseph turned his attention to me, absolute fury riddling his features. James's eyes were wide with fear, a small streak of blood smearing across his face from its source at his nose and across his cheek.
"You?" Joseph barked. "A low class nothing managed to seduce the son of a socialite? Another man? I do not believe a word that comes from your filthy mouth!"
"It was me!" I screamed, my voice cracking with the intensity. Joseph recoiled for a split second before his fist was coming down on me, landing on my face. I cried out in pain.
"Logan!" James called. Joseph's fist came down again. It hit my nose, and I felt the blood gush out. I screamed out in pain.
I managed to open my eyes - which I had squeezed close at the first blow - to see James lurching up from the floor, leaping towards Joseph, landing on the man's back, fighting to get him away from me. James was screaming nonsense, clawing at Joseph, Joseph echoing the noise James was making.
Joseph had managed to nearly throw James from his back when an intense quake rocked the whole ship, causing both James and Joseph to fall and hit the floor hard, the elder hitting his head against the ground, seeming to knock him unconscious.
James squirmed away from Joseph, frantically trying to get to me. When he reached me, he wrapped his arms around me in a quick embrace. "Get our clothes from the car. We have to go right now. Noise echoes down here. It will be only minutes until somebody comes to investigate the ruckus.
I crawled up from the floor, my vision slightly blurred, but I managed to get into the car and gather James's and my clothes. I threw them out of the car to James, where he separated the garments and tossed mine back to me. I struggled to get them on in my haste. I got them on, jumping from the car, running immediately into James's embrace.
"What's going on down here?" A voice yelled from the staircase leading to the area we were in. Shit.
We hadn't moved fast enough.
"I said, what is going on down he- " the voice from the staircase appeared, followed by four other men behind him. "You two, stay right there!"
The five men ran down the staircase, and James pushed me away from him. "Logan, run! Run as fast as you can, and do not look back!" James pushed me off and I ran.
Without one glance back.