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He wants to say thank you. He hates that he wants to say that to an asshole like Hank. If he did say it, the words would come out weird. Breathless. When he’s trying to keep everything a growl.

And Hank hasn’t actually said Logan did a good job. What if this is a test? Is Logan really a null or are people’s suspicions correct that he’s a submissive pretending he isn’t?

“I’ve been gone for months, Hank. Every day I was in that cell and I asked myself, I wonder if that blowhard ever got Private Reynolds to go out with him?”

Hank turns away from Logan and moves toward Robert. “Jesus. You remember that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Hank shrugs. “Well, I don’t know. It just seems pretty unimportant.”

“This is the most interaction I’ve had where someone didn’t hurt me in ages. Believe me, it’s important. Anyway, yeah, tell me about how you’re still striking out. What else have I missed?”

“What makes you think I’m striking out?”

“Only that Reynolds has met you.”

Hank laughs. One Dominant to another, giving each other shit. “Such a prick. I’m gonna drop your ass back off in that shithole. Where’s the fucking gratitude?”

Robert had been joking, but suddenly he’s serious. Really, really serious. The smile is gone. “Hank. Thank you,” Robert says, and he gets to his feet with a wince and hugs him.

“You need a shower.”

Robert laughs hollowly. “I can’twaitto take one.” He pulls back and looks Hank in the face, still serious.

Weirdly dominant. As if he’s giving Hank a taste of his own medicine.

In his space, oppressive.

Forcing a connection.

“Thank you for saving my fucking life. I mean it. I’ll even put in a good word with Reynolds.Maybe,” he says, clapping a hand to Hank’s cheek in a gesture pretty close to a slap.

“Yeah, alright. Get the fuck off me,” Hank says, almost shivering, like he has ants crawling all over him for a change. Logan hopes he does have that unpleasant awareness of what it’s like to know he’s vulnerable and afraid.

But surely one Dominant can’t make another Dominant feel that way, can he?

Logan opens his book, relieved when Hank disappears to the back of the plane. He’s so relieved he’s sick with it.

Choked up with gratitude toward the man across from him.

Thank you, thank you, thank you,he thinks, but keeps it in.

He stares at the ground, at Robert’s groin, then forces his gaze back to his book. If Logan got hard, he’d be hard now. As it is, he’s feeling wet, a steady leaking from his cock.

Robert sits back down with a groan, keeping his injured leg straight out. “I’m Robert. Thanks again for the rescue,” he says quietly and rubs his hand over his thigh. He glances at Logan and away, doing absolutely nothing to assert his dominance even though Logan is unsteady. Isn’t it obvious?

“You’re welcome, Sergeant. I’m Logan. Corporal Logan Burrows.”

“Nice to meet you, Logan. You’re now my friend,” he says, gaze direct. This is important. Logan sits up straighter. “You saved my ass, and I will always be happy to return the favor if you need it,” he adds, jerking his head toward Hank.

If Logan needs protection against unwanted Dominants, then Robert will protect him.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

He can’t express any sort of gratitude. He has to settle for a nod. If Hank would have gotten Logan breathless and pathetic from saying “Thank you,” he can’t even imagine what would happen if he tried to say those words to Robert.

No one has ever seen him this weak. Robert knows. Robert intervened and helped him. He’s offering to do it again and not take advantage.

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