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Note: This story is directly related to the plots and storylines in progress at Left Turn at Westchester


A Moment to Himself


He had a moment to himself and that was something to take advantage of. Warren wanted to think with his skin, savor memories that were stored in the tips of his fingers, the shape of his mouth, the echo of his breathing. Logan was there, the chill of his belt buckle, the delicacy of his kisses. The warmth and weight of his body sheltered under his wings. Logan, Warren thought with a groan, was all over him.

Warren sighed through his teeth, stretching out, wings draped lazily over the arms of the chair and across the floor. He flexed his wings, feeling the drag of the wool carpet across his feathers while he rubbed the edge of his thumb across his swelling erection. Eyes half closed and glittering in the dimness, Warren eased himself out of the silk briefs which had suddenly become too tight. The cooler air was a pleasurable shock and he murmured throatily to himself.

A long, slow pull - with a bit of a twist at the top - and Warren groaned faintly then his free hand stroked along his hard belly, up the dip and rise of his pecs to tug at his nipples. They tightened under his fingers, Warren's eyes opened briefly at the sweet little jolt and his hand moved again on his erection. He shifted again, almost squirming in the chair, as he coaxed the pleasure and the heat up higher with his hands. One arm pumped slowly, muscles flexing, and the other skimmed across his chest and throat, flicking over hard nipples, teasing along his collarbone, running a thumb across his lips.

He was hard now, eager and he wanted - he wanted the taste of Logan's mouth again. Warren licked his own fingers, skimming down to pinch a nipple sharply. He'd been mostly asleep when Logan had explored his wings last night - the hazy half memories were easy to build a fantasy around. The warm weight of Logan's hands on his skin, sliding over him. Making him hot, making him sweat. Warren arched, wings flexing, pushing into his hand. A drop of pre-cum trailed ticklishly across the head of his sex and Warren slid his thumb over the crest, stroking the slick fluid down his shaft. He groaned because it felt so good, imagined Logan's hands there - doing this to him. Logan's hands - no - Logan's mouth. Warren's breathing hitched, fingers curling over his skin as he imagined the slide of dark hair over his palms as he drew Logan closer - pressed deeper - savored the wet surrender of his mouth.

"Ahh - lord." Warren breathed, shivering, skin prickling with heat and sharp hunger. Logan liked to eat, he like to smoke, he liked to kiss - surely he'd like to use his mouth for other things as well. Warren was pushing urgently into his hand now, muscles flexing, sweat gleaming like silver in the hollow of his throat. Logan's hands massaging him - not erotic then but the memory dragged another throaty groan from him. Warren scratched his fingers up the inside of a thigh, then cupped his testicles in his hand, tugging lightly. The rush up his spine made him arch, cry out softly - he was so close. Warren's wings flared, nearly pressing him out of the chair, the swift pump of his hand pulled glistening threads of pre-cum from the head of his erection, trailing over his fingers, making everything wet.

Close. He was close. Warren panted, eyes squeezed shut, teeth clamped on a lower lip as he held back - held back just a moment longer - feeling so good, wanting to go on forever and craving the release he could feel swelling in him. It was the memory of Logan's kiss behind his ear, the wet touch of his tongue that sent Warren flying over the edge. He wanted that kiss again. Gentle, warm and intoxicatingly intimate.

"God!" Warren cried out, stiffening in the chair, lost in the white hot rush, flying on the pulse and throb and messy spill of semen over his hands and belly. He sagged bonlessly down, eyes half closed, wings drooping, breathing hard. A moment, a moment - feeling the hard beat of his heart and savoring the moment.

Anticipating another moment. One he wouldn't spend alone.

END (032803)