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Max breathes hard as he blinks up at the ceiling. Sweat and the sticky come of two grown men cooling on his stomach as his nerves still sing from coming his brains out. Logan, collapsed on the bed beside him, isn't much better. Max can feel the warm gusts of panted breaths against his shoulders even past the heat the man constantly radiates. Other than their quickly evening breathing the only sound in the house is the distant rumble of the train departing.
Fingers dragging through the mess on his stomach, Max grimaces as a thought he's had before comes back to him. A nagging question that he's been contemplating for a while but one that usually slips his mind when things start to get a little hot and heavy with Logan. He rolls over onto his side, not paying any attention to what he might be dripping onto the bed. The sheets were due for another cleaning the second Logan tackled him onto the bed after a full day of mining ore out at the Dead Sea.
"Logan, babe?" Max waits for the other man to open his eyes a bit. For the blue slivers to focus on him before reaching out to cup his face and rub at the fair stubble growing in. Smiling as Logan immediately nuzzles into the touch. "You got a thing for marking me up?"
"Huh, did I get ya? Sorry darlin'," Logan gets up on an elbow to run his fingers over Max's neck. Thumb rubbing gently along the skin as he makes a considering hum. "Doesn't look like ya gonna bruise. Not here at least."
"No, not that," Max shivers as Logan presses against a spot along his collarbone, tracing a half circle in a spot that he knows is going to be covered by most of the shirts he owns. He reaches up to drag Logan's hand down to the mess he left earlier. "I'm talking about you always making sure you come on my stomach or back. You like to see me wearing your come?"
Max says it with a smile, because he's not exactly complaining. The way Logan looks at him sometimes like he could fuck him even longer despite just coming is a good memory to have when the man takes off on a days long patrol. Figuring out ways to get that look aimed his way more often can only do good things for their relationship as far as Max is concerned, and getting a firm handle on Logan's kinks is step one in that goal.
Logan blinks down at his own hand as he spreads his fingers out and stares. The look he gives the mess of come is blank, almost startled. There's none of the faint embarrassment that Max is still surprised by when Logan makes a request for something a little different, no trace of the heated desire when he forgets to feel self-conscious of his own wants. No, there's nothing on Logan's face except pure surprise. Like the time Max had pointed out to him that he was treating his own home like it was a hideout he'd have to leave in a hurry and Logan had to confess he hadn't realized he was doing it.
Max can feel his eyebrows lifting as Logan continues to stare but shifts his gaze away. A touch of embarrassment coming over him as he utters a soft, "Ah," in response and nothing else.
"Logan," Max says slowly as he puzzles through the man's response. A theory forming slowly in his mind that's so unbelievable that he can't hide any of the surprise from his voice. A dozen conversations he's had over the years with Heidi and Nia about birth control methods coming back to the forefront of his mind. "Babe."
Logan clears his throat and lays down on his back. Clean hand curling up behind his head as he stares mutely up at the ceiling. Face slowly turning a bright red that Max hasn't seen since he first confessed he had no clue how to make love to a man when they started dating.
"Sweetheart, love of my life-" Max breaks off with a chuckle and rolls onto his stomach. Reaching up to cup Logan's burning face in both hands and hauling him around so that they're looking eye to eye. No flinching away as Max very gently says, "Oh, babe, you know I can't get pregnant, right?"
Logan looks like he's waiting for the bed to open up under him, or a monster to randomly decide to attack the house so he can run away. All the evidence Max needs to know he's right in his guess of the issue at hand. Max tries not to laugh, he tries, but Logan grimaces and he can all but hear the man calling himself an idiot. Logan's quelling look doesn't stop the laughter from breaking out as Max collapses against his chest.
"Yeah, yeah," Logan grumbles, arms coming up to hold Max close and laughter lurking under the grousing tone. "Laugh it up, darlin'. Least I was bein' considerate."
"Very considerate," Max agrees between laughs and aims a kiss at Logan's lips that more or less lands where he wants it to. He chuckles a little more before regaining his composure. "Although, I wouldn't be opposed to you trying to get me knocked up."
Logan flips them with a growl that doesn't mask the flare of interest that flits across his face before Max can feel exactly how far that interest goes pressing hot and hard against his hip before Logan's folding one of his legs over his shoulder and- Well, Max gets a lot more interested himself when Logan expertly pins both of his hands up above his head before his cock slides easily back in.
Max puts any questions about a possible breeding kink onto the back burner for later exploration. Much, much later as Logan sets up a slow but steady pace that destroys all possibility of thinking for the immediate future for them both.