Page 4 of Designation: Null

Especially when a knife offers so much more precision.

He thinks about that, a blade on his thigh. Nowthat’srelief. Logan paces.

Robert shifts on the bench and Logan turns, watching him in case he wakes up.

The Dominant had woken up briefly when Logan set him down on the bench. He’d shivered and Logan had wrapped him in a blanket while they took off.

His team is scattered around the plane, chatting, cleaning weapons, all the rituals well-adjusted people with designations use to decompress.

Crude laughter drifts back to him every now and again. It’s going to be an eternity getting back to base in this tiny tin can of death.

Logan pulls out the file they took. It’s in code and Logan has no idea what any of it says. He reports in to his commander but has someone else upload the file because he needs to keep the Dominant in his line of sight.

He’s been tortured. Someone should keep an eye on him. He could be sick. Logan sits down on the opposite bench in case Robert needs anything. They’d taken his vitals, and since he wasn’t obviously bleeding or injured, they’d just decided to wait until they got him back to base for a proper medical evaluation.

Logan’s leg is bouncing up and down and he’s chewing absently on a thumbnail while time crawls by.

No one got hurt. Not a scratch on any of them. Unbelievable. Logan can’t even go halfway around the world to get hurt, he thinks. Hysterical laughter bubbles up inside him. He gets up and stalks to the back of the plane, which just makes him feel worse. He goes back and sits down again.

It’s a relief. He takes a calming breath.

Logan can’t stop staring at the Dominant. Robert. He works in Designation Resources. Isn’t that a hell of a thing? Logan might have to report to him in the future. What would that be like? Checking in, meeting him properly. The Dominant looking over his file, asking him questions.

He’s sleek and dangerous, and also beautiful. He’s big, and although he’s pale, Logan is pretty sure his skin is usually a bit darker with a tanned glow. He’s lost weight. His frame is large and he’ll need a lot of meals to get back to his normal weight. He must be very imposing.

Robert needs to shave and bathe. He doesn’t smell good or look well, but he’s compelling in a way Logan hasn’t experienced before. Vital. It’s almost like he can hear the Dominant’s heartbeat echoing in his throat and… well, lower. Much lower. In a place he doesn’t spend a lot of time thinking about.

He’s definitely a Dominant, but whatever drugs they gave him must have completely fucked with his designation because Logan isn’t getting a Dominant read off of Robert at all.

Logan doesn’t know how long he sits there, a little out of it, vibrating with suppressed energy, trying to calm down and settle into the long flight ahead of them.

Staring.

Robert hasn’t moved in long enough that Logan gets careless, just staring openly, admiring each individual part of the man before him. His hands are strong and muscular. And then he’s looking at Robert’s stomach, visually tracing his way up the man’s chest to his throat and mouth. He hasn’t shaved since he was captured. Logan wonders what that rough beard might feel like against his fingertips, his lips, sliding along his thigh or—

Oh god, Logan is in a bad way if his mind is goingthere.

He rubs his hands over his face and tries to think of other things, nonsexual things, but it’s barely a minute before Logan is admiring him again. His thick lashes and the bridge of his nose. What color are his eyes? Logan couldn’t tell in the dimly lit base and the picture in Robert’s file was black and white.

He looks at Robert’s thighs, heavy with muscle, even his bare feet. The blanket Logan had put on his shoulders is parted in the middle and he can see the ridges of his abdominal muscles, the line of hair that leads down his flat stomach to—

“Thanks for the rescue,” Robert says, and Logan’s eyes fly to his, heat exploding in his chest, undoubtedly visible on his cheeks.

Fuck.

The Dominant must have known he was staring. Logan waits for a leer. A mocking comment. What submissives arealwayssubjected to when they’re attracted to a Dominant and caught out.

It doesn’t happen.

Robert closes his eyes again.

“What were they doing to you?” Logan asks gruffly, instinctively calling on his reserve of dominance, needing to project calm control. Anger usually comes so easily to him, but Robert’s calm demeanor and lack of aggression don’t help. His own anger is a response to dominance, and Robert’s is so weird that his normal response is missing.

Robert frowns. “I don’t really know. I hadn’t been in that room before, and they’d just gotten me strapped in when the power went down. Your timing was amazing,” he says.

His smile is blinding.

Robert is stunningly gorgeous when he smiles. His eyes are hazel. He radiates a peaceful calm that leaves a weird tingle at the base of Logan’s spine and crawls along his scalp to his shoulders, settling there, as if phantom hands are pressing lightly down to ground him.

---