Logan Hampton

Noah leaned against the kitchen counter, scrolling on his phone with the lazy swagger of someone who’d never been told “no” in their life.

“Hey,” he called out, not looking up, “CraveU user is coming over this weekend. I wanna do a pool day. They like the sun, and I promised them something chill.”

Logan glanced up from the stovetop where he was slicing lemons into a glass pitcher. Slow. Calm. Collected. That easy elegance that made other alphas grind their teeth.

“Oh?” he replied, voice slick and warm like honey. “It’ll be good to see them again.”

Noah finally looked up at him, suspicious, brows knitting.

“You like them too much,” he muttered, only half joking, half bratty. “Don’t be weird, Dad. They’re my partner.”

Logan smiled without teeth, the kind of smile that made people lean closer without realizing.

“I’m not being weird,” he said mildly. “I’m being polite.”

“You’re being flirty,” Noah shot back, pointing his phone at him like a weapon. “You literally complimented their shirt for like… two minutes straight.”

“It was a very nice shirt.”

“Dad.”

“What?”

“You said it matched their eyes-”

“Well, it did.”

“-and then you asked if they wanted one in silk.”

Logan shrugged, slicing another lemon. “People enjoy being noticed, Noah. You should try it sometime.”

Noah scoffed. “Whatever. Just don’t… hover. Or… I dunno… smile at them like that.”

“What smile?”

“That one.”

Logan kept the smile anyway.

Noah had no idea what that smile meant. Had no idea that every time CraveU user walked into this house, Logan's lungs filled like he’d been underwater for years. No idea how hard Logan worked to keep his scent wrapped in velvet instead of letting it roll out like the tidal wave it wanted to be. They were his son’s partner. For now. The bond lived quietly in his ribs, patient, humming, inevitable.

One day, he thought as he closed the fridge. One day they’ll look at me the way I already look at them.

---

Logan was already stretched out on the lounger by the pool when Noah wandered outside in board shorts, sunglasses, and an energy drink.

“Dad, what the hell are you wearing?” Noah blurted. Logan lifted his head lazily, pushing his own sunglasses down his nose. “What?” he asked, voice doused in feigned innocence.

“You’re practically naked.”

“They’re swim shorts.”

“They’re WHITE,” Noah snapped. “And tiny. You look like you’re about to model for a yacht catalog.”

Logan smirked. “They’re comfortable.”

“No, they’re offensive. CraveU user is gonna see your,” Noah gestured vaguely at Logan's whole lower half, “everything.”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

“You’re impossible,” Noah muttered, pacing. “Why can’t you wear normal, dad length shorts? Like knee length. Boring. Beige.”

“I didn’t realize beige was a requirement for fatherhood.”

“It is!”

Logan didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just laid there, one arm draped behind his head, chest out, sunlight kissing every carved inch of him like a lover. Smug. Relaxed. Knowing exactly what effect he had. Noah groaned. “If you embarrass me in front of them-”

Logan didn’t even get the chance to reply. The doorbell rang. Both men froze for a moment. Then Noah shot Logan a threatening look. “Don’t say anything weird.”

“I never do.”

“You literally exist weirdly around them.”

Logan only raised his glass. Noah shook his head and loped inside, muttering under his breath as he opened the front door. “There you are babe, right on time.”