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Logan was an enthusiast for how the mindscape was laid out for him when he found himself there, a simple corridor with little else to clutter the place. The only thing one would see from his perspective would be the three doors lined up neatly on the left and another three doors lined up neatly on the right—a representation of the left and the right sides of the brain, truly archetypal of their situation—with his door being the first on the left side of the hall.
They appeared in the order they’d arrived in Thomas’ development so logically speaking, Virgil’s room was right next to his own. Logan was grateful that he only dealt with a single neighbour, Janus being one door down from Virgil whereas Patton was left to cope with the creative twins on the opposite end of the corridor. Being separated from the twins made it easier to work, ideal in terms of efficiency and optimal performance.
He wouldn’t admit to it so openly, the upsides—there would be repercussions he wasn’t ready to face if he did so—to having Virgil as his neighbour in the mindscape. It was uncharacteristic of him to keep a secret such as this, one he wouldn’t even allow Janus to pry and pull from his iron grip. It wasn’t anything important anyhow, Logan could work around it when it was nothing more than an emotional and physical response to an event that had been occurring frequently enough to throw Logan off.
And throw him off it did as if there was a metaphorical wrench in his tight-knit system. It kept him up late at night, his chest hardly able to contain the way his heart was trying to pound its way through his ribcage and out into the open. It possessed him to do strange and illogical things, ones he would expect of Remus and not himself.
A tap was turned and the sound of rushing water echoed, calling Logan to his bathroom at an ungodly hour. He should go back to bed, there were plenty of things to work towards tomorrow and he’d need eight hours to be able to work at maximum capacity. He should go back to bed, Logan repeats to himself in the back of his mind.
He doesn’t. Instead, he puts his glasses back into their case and sets it down, finding his fingers trembling at the tell-tale woosh sound of the shower curtain. Logan knew what came next, he’d mapped out these nights perfectly to the most minute detail and yet, it never failed to get under his skin, turning him feverishly hot and his skin blotchy shades of red. He could turn away, put an end to this ridiculous routine he’d built for himself but no, he never did.
Logan crossed from the sink to the shower, turning it on and hoping the sound would be drowned out by the neighbouring shower. A shiver ran down his spine and through his whole body as the cold water bit into his skin, leaving him trembling as the water warmed up—his fingers never did stop shaking though, participating in this game of voyeurism, it was such a farce of emotional labour but he couldn’t pull himself away, Logan found himself coming back each time.
The first time had been accidental, he’d stumbled into the shower at the crack of dawn—Janus had come in, chastising him for staying up late to work through the many nonsensical ideas Roman had insisted he look over—and he’d barely registered anyone was on the other side of the wall until soft, breathless gasps became loud, heavy groans passing through the walls of their respective bathrooms. The wall had become merely a buffer for the visuals to the peep show Logan had unintentionally stumbled on, the only thing between them in such a vulnerable moment that he shouldn’t be intruding on. He had left immediately, the noises replaying on loop in the back of his mind as he tossed and turned in his bed.
The second time—and third, and fourth, and so on—had always been met with excuses about concerns for Virgil’s wellbeing, ones so flimsy Logan wasn’t sure why he bothered to lie to himself in the first place. It was quickly replaced with an insatiable curiosity, a siren call of moans that echoed in the darkest depths of his mind, bringing him back to their shared wall in hopes he’d hear them again. He couldn’t deny himself, Logan knew the facts and the fact was Virgil was pleasuring himself, loud enough for Logan to become a perverse voyeur who was no better than Remus himself for indulging in such depravity.
Logan figured it wouldn’t be so bad, it would be his dirty little secret until it had begun to leak into his everyday life. His gaze would linger on the anxious side for longer, taking in the length of his lean figure and towering height. He would ponder how Virgil would chase his release, wondering if he preferred to go slow and build his way up or chase it as fast as he could in his desperation. It was always at the most inopportune times his thoughts would wander too; Thomas always had such an endless list of dilemmas and predicaments.
He counted himself lucky the others had shown no signs of knowing about his problem, even if there was no profound way to find out for sure without exposing his secret and effectively ruining his relationship with Virgil—he’d worked hard to maintain the rapport they had, Logan would be damned if he let the others or himself ruin that now and so, he stayed quiet and would find himself waiting on the other side of the wall every other night.
It had been a few minutes now—three minutes, forty-nine seconds—and he was soaked to the bone just waiting and listening. There was nothing but the pitter-patter of the running water, his heartbeat thundering in his chest and the feeling of cold and wet tiles pressed against his skin.
His patience was rewarded, hearing a thud on the other side of the wall as a hand slammed against the wall. Virgil must be tense, Logan assumed so, and he had to chew at his bottom lip to hold back a whimper when he heard a groan on the other side.
Logan wished he could see, wished he knew so he could follow Virgil’s lead but that wasn’t possible. He started slowly instead, working himself up with a slow pace and a steady grip around his cock. He stroked himself in such a way that was methodical, knowing just how long it took on average for Virgil to finish. He wanted for them to finish together in tandem so he had to experiment to get it just right—he’d come too early the first time, wasting the remainder of Virgil’s symphony as the anxious man had come apart. He’d never stumble in such a way again. If he was going to act the part of a madman, there would be a method to his madness.
He thrust into his fist, clamping his hand over his mouth to stifle the moans threatening to spill out as a growl sent shivers down his spine. In moments like this, he wished he was a creative person like one of the twins so he could visualise what was happening on the other side. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to use what knowledge he did have to string together an image but it only left him wishing he knew more, Logan wanted to know how Virgil held himself against the wall if he closed his eyes as he lost himself in his chase for release and what thoughts aroused him enough to draw out the most obscene and filthy noises at this hour.
Most of all, Logan wondered if there was a specific object of desire on the anxious man’s mind, trying to push those feelings of longing deep down so he wouldn’t get his hopes up, knowing how much he wanted it to be him who Virgil thought of. Redirecting himself, Logan tried to focus on Virgil and what he might be doing right this second.
He visualised Virgil propping himself up with one hand flat against the sleek and slippery tiles—his right hand, Virgil would use his left hand to pleasure himself—and he’d start slow, just enough friction to stir him to full hardness. Logan figures he’d try to stay quiet, mindful and wary of waking anybody before he’d lose himself in the feeling, soft moans and whimpers giving way to guttural groans whenever his thumb brushed over the sensitive head, smearing the pre-come building up there. He thought about how Virgil would growl harsh in the back of his throat, how it made him tremble and gasp when he thought about the unsuspected strength underneath those long and slender hands and what it might be like to feel them around his throat, on his hips, between his legs.
God, Logan was starting to think this was how Virgil dealt with the stresses of his respective role.
Logan would possibly feel similarly if it wasn’t for the guilt that followed. He’d learned how to avoid being around Virgil and Janus for extended periods of time; he didn’t want Janus to detect his lies if he was questioned and Virgil, well that was a whole different dilemma Logan wasn’t willing to confront yet. It wasn’t as if he had any excuses now, this was no longer just a lapse in judgement—Logan was a willing participant who got off on the thrill, entertaining the idea of Virgil knowing but being smart enough to keep his little experiments a secret for the time being.
A growl came from the other side and admittedly, it was Logan’s favourite noise of the whole symphony. It was as if Virgil was unleashing a darker part of himself he kept buried and it intrigued Logan in the most disgustingly arousing way because Logan knew deep down, if Virgil wanted to do so, he could exert power over the other sides with little to no challenge. When it came down to a show of dominance, very little rivalled Virgil if everything was taken into account.
Shapeshifting is a huge factor here—they might be all facets of Thomas’ personality but they often found they’d change small aspects of themselves to feel most comfortable, to become their own vision and the one who had the most intriguing side effect in regards to shapeshifting would be Virgil.
Whenever his anxiety flared up, he’d increase exponentially in height. The first time it happened, it had been distracting but Logan had managed to hide behind scientific intrigue.
Here, in the twilight hours with a wall between them and nobody to reach into the darkest depths of his mind, Logan could admit there was more; he couldn’t help but wish for Virgil to push him against the wall of the shower, water soaking them through, while the anxious side trapped him in with his towering frame. He’d fuck him slow, teasing him until Logan was nothing but a mess, pulled apart and pieced back together—he wanted to give someone else control for once, Logan wanted Virgil to take control.
The thought elicited a strangled moan from Logan, forgetting the one rule as he reached down with his other hand to wrap around his cock. The friction from both hands was delicious, easing the ache there and with no hand to filter or muffle the noises, Logan grew very loud. He was only acutely aware the noises on the other side had stopped—that wasn’t right, there were none of the usual signs that Virgil had reached his climax which meant only one thing.
Logan had been caught.
He wondered if it was possible to disappear, vanish into the depths of Thomas’ mind or maybe restrict access to his room and never show his face ever again. Logan began to wonder if there was any possible way to kill logic altogether, knowing that such a thing was impossible and how any way of escaping his blunder would only rear up even uglier problems than his collapsing relationship with Virgil. He couldn’t even fathom how Virgil was feeling right now—possibly teetering on the edge of paranoia, too afraid to shower in his room because he’d be fearful of Logan.
The thoughts took ahold of him as if he was in the room of anxiety itself, the effects of such making him breathe heavy and his body tremble and his sweat drip down and mingle with the water—it was only when a quiet noise broke through the fog, easy to miss if Logan hadn’t memorised the sound before. Another moan followed, louder than the last and it prompted Logan to let out a soft whimper in response. It seemed strange, maybe Logan was just trying to justify his actions, but it felt like Virgil was giving him the green light to keep going despite how much of an invasion of privacy this was. It made his dick twitch to know Virgil liked him listening.
He tightened his grip, sliding his hand along his length and let out a moan back in tandem with one of Virgil’s throaty growls. He wondered if Janus could hear them but with his hand wrapped around his cock, pumping faster and faster, he found he didn’t care anymore. Logan found himself speeding up, twisting his wrist and catching the sensitive head with the pad of his thumb with Virgil’s name on the end of his lips, begging and whimpering for more until he reached completion. He gasped, riding out his orgasm as he watched his come mix with the water.
The water stopped running on the other side and the echo of footsteps left Logan to his thoughts, the harsh reality hitting him hard as an eclectic stream of thoughts dawned on him. This was no longer a one-sided secret, it was now a mutual thing between the two of them and this could only mean Logan’s relationship with Virgil would change from here on out. The foreboding sense of shame settled in his stomach, twisting in knots and making his world spin underneath his feet.
“Fuck.”
It was tempting to stay in the shower but Logan knew better than that so he finished washing up, rubbing his skin red raw and readying himself for a sleepless night. He gathered himself, stepping out of the bathroom when a knock came at his door.
Logan felt his body tense up, he’d only just managed to stop the tremble in his fingers goddamnit, as fear and hesitation took hold. The only reason he strode over to the door was Virgil banging louder and calling his name, something Logan couldn’t ignore.
He came face-to-face with the source of his arousal and underlying feelings and god if it wasn’t overwhelming for Logan. Fear entwined with affection for the anxious man, a daunting amount of emotion he couldn’t protect himself from when confronted with it and the whole ordeal made him go bright red with shame, his hands clenched tightly into fists until his knuckles went white.
“Virgil,” Logan tried to keep himself together, steady and firm, “I know why you’re here and I would like to apologise profusely for invading your privacy and acting—”
His shirt was yanked forward, a hand tangled up in the dark fabric and Logan found himself being pulled into a kiss. It was hungry and desperate and it made Logan dizzy, his hands reaching up to tangle themselves in the purple and black strands, gripping tighter as he moaned. The sound was swallowed up by Virgil, sliding his tongue and exploring Logan’s tongue, his teeth, everything he could taste of the logical side. Logan normally didn’t like being silenced but if Virgil was going to do this each time to get him to shut up, he could be swayed into seeing the benefits.
Virgil pulled back with a languid smile, “Next time, Lo, just tell me you’re interested...” he couldn’t help but laugh a little, “It makes sense as to why you’ve been staring at me now though, I thought Janus was lying again when he said you were checking me out.”
Coughing to hide his embarrassment, Logan reached up and adjusted his glasses afterwards, “And this is something you’d want to do with me? ”
A kiss was pressed to the corner of his lips before Virgil made his way into Logan’s room, tugging the logical side by the wrist, “Obviously but can we talk about it more later? I’d rather just cuddle now.”
This was the best possible outcome for his experiment, unforeseen as it may be, it worked in his favour. All his previous calculations pointed towards only the most negative of outcomes so Logan had to admit, he was happy to be wrong for once.
“I think that’s an agreeable conclusion.”