Chapter Text
"Take the shot, Logan! Take the shot!"
The living room was a mess. Tyler balanced carefully on the back of his grandmother’s floral armchair, a bright orange Nerf blaster gripped tightly like it was a real weapon. Across the room, Aiden dove behind the coffee table, laughing like a maniac as foam darts zipped over his head.
"I’m out of ammo!" Logan called, ducking behind a pile of oversized decorative pillows. "And Taylor just flanked the kitchen!"
"Cover me!" Tyler shouted. Before Logan could respond, Tyler jumped over the armchair with surprising athleticism. He landed on the carpet and tagged Aiden right on the shoulder.
"Man, no way! I was behind cover!" Aiden complained, falling back dramatically.
"The 'cover' is a lace doily, Aiden. It doesn’t count as a shield!" Taylor chimed in, appearing from the hallway and tagging Aiden again.
When Logan’s grandfather poked his head in to say "war time" was over and sleep was mandatory, the hallway was filled with blue and orange foam. The adrenaline was still racing through Logan's body as they finally retreated to their room, the door shutting on the muffled giggles of the others.
The twin beds they had pushed together creaked under their weight, an odd sound in the sudden stillness of the house. Tyler was still buzzing, his chest rising and falling as he pulled off his grey hoodie, throwing it onto a chair where a Velcro dart stuck out from the sleeve.
"You’re still vibrating, Lo," Tyler whispered in a low voice. He crawled across the mattress, pinning Logan’s ankles with his own. "Still thinking about how I totally saved you in there?"
"I had it under control," Logan replied, his heart starting to race for reasons unrelated to Nerf guns. "You just like being the hero."
Tyler leaned over him, his shadow large in the moonlight. "Yeah? Well, maybe I just like having you owe me one."
Without waiting for a response, Tyler leaned down. He kissed Logan, a hot and urgent kiss, tasting of the peppermint tea they had shared earlier. Logan let out a surprised gasp, his hands instinctively grabbing the fabric of Tyler’s undershirt.
"Mm—" Logan’s protest faded as Tyler’s tongue brushed against his bottom lip, asking for entry. When Logan gave in, a soft, needy sound slipped out—ah—as he arched his back, craving more of that grounding weight.
Tyler pulled back slightly, breathing heavily. "Taylor’s right down the hall," he murmured, his hands gliding over Logan's ribs. "You have to be quiet, Lo. Can you do that for me? Better than you did when I tagged you in the kitchen?"
Logan's face turned bright red. "I—I’ll try."
As Tyler’s hands moved lower, removing the barriers of cotton and modesty, the quiet of the room was broken by the wet sounds of skin meeting skin. When Tyler’s mouth moved to the sensitive spot on Logan’s neck, nipping and sucking at the pale skin, Logan threw his head back against the pillow.
"Oh... hngh..." Logan bit his lip tightly, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the bedsheets.
Tyler let out a low, possessive growl, his knee sliding between Logan’s thighs to pry them apart with focus. Each time Tyler pushed forward, Logan's breath hitched in a broken stutter, nnn-ah! that he forced down against Tyler’s shoulder.
"That’s it," Tyler whispered, his voice rough near Logan’s ear. "Just like that. Give it all to me."
The air in the room grew thick and humid, the scent of lavender replaced by the raw tang of two bodies close to their limit. Tyler’s movements were deliberate, each thrust drawing muffled, shaky pleas from Logan’s throat. Logan's eyes were shut tight, his vision a blur of white sparks as he held onto Tyler, wrapping his legs around Tyler's waist to pull him deeper.
When it came to an end, it was a silent eruption. Tyler buried his face in Logan’s neck to stifle a loud groan—u-uhh...—while Logan's body stiffened, his toes curling into the carpet as a long, shaky sound escaped him—aaaa-h...—barely more than a whisper.
They collapsed into the tangled sheets, their chests rising and falling in sync. Tyler shifted, pulling Logan’s sweaty head onto his chest and kissing the top of his hair.
"Rematch tomorrow?" Tyler mumbled, his voice turning into a sleepy rumble.
"Only if you promise not to tackle me into the laundry basket again," Logan replied softly, his voice exhausted but happy.
"No promises," Tyler chuckled, already drifting off.