Page 63 of Wear It Like a Crown

Leo swallowed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m aware you’re out of my league, thank you very much.”

Hurt flashed over Joshua’s face. “That’s stupid, andyou know it. It isn’t—you don’t usually treat me like a prince. I thought you didn’t care anymore. That it’s not…”

“It’s not why I’m here tonight,” Leo finished for him. He needed to shut his trap, needed to get out of here before he made a mistake, but—Joshua was so close, and he was just… so lovely. So very, very lovely. All green eyes and pale skin and unfairly red lips.

I always want to kiss you.

“Then why?” Joshua asked softly, and why what? Oh.

“Because you’re my friend,” Leo told him. “That’s why I’m here. Not because you’re a client of ours, or a prince, or some crap like that.”

Another smile flashed over Joshua’s face. Leo wanted to see him smile all the time; he wanted to be the reason for it.

Jesus, Leo was in too deep. Quicksand dragging him under.

When Joshua spoke again, it was with the quiet confusion of someone attempting to solve a riddle. “We are friends, but I also… I feel like I know solittleabout you. I don’t even know how old you are.” He frowned. “I know something happened with your family, and that you miss your sisters, but I don’t know where you grew up. Whether it was in London, or if you came here to study. Whether you even did study.”

Leo’s skin felt brittle, transparent, his bones hollowed out from the inside. Sitting up straighter, he was about to get the hell away, already had the right words on the tip of his tongue that would remove him from this situation. Joshua was watching him with caution etched into the curve of his mouth.

With a measured intake of air, Leo forced the words back down.

Another breath. He loosened his posture and met Joshua’s eyes. It felt as though the room was expanding around them, walls shrinking away like cockroaches that feared the light.

“I’m twenty-seven.” Even this small piece of tangible, concrete truth tasted like sour grapes, foreign and acidic. “Born on the twenty-fourth of December. Wouldn’t recommend it.”

Drawing his knees up to his chest, Joshua folded his hands over them and set his chin on top. His smile was timid. “I take it Baby Jesus stole your thunder?”

I always want to kiss you, Leo’s brain echoed,always, always.

So he reached out to fit his fingers around Joshua’s jaw,leaned in and waited three slow, anxious heartbeats for Joshua to stop him. Instead, Joshua’s lips parted on a soft exhale, warm air shivering over Leo’s skin. He made no move to extract himself.

Leo kissed him.

The gap between a flash of lightning and the rolling of thunder. That’s what it felt like, waiting for Joshua to respond.

Leo kept the pressure light, a gentle brush of his mouth over Joshua’s, coaxing—and then, suddenly, Joshua turned into it, fingers tangling in Leo’s hair to pull him in. Their noses bumped, and Joshua giggled softly even as he nudged closer,closer, mouth open and inviting. Christ,yes. Leo was vaguely aware of Joshua’s knees digging into his chest. Mostly, he tasted salt and a hint of fruity sweetness, felt his own breath stutter around the realisation that he was kissing Joshua and Joshua was kissing him back;they were kissing.

He inhaled through his nose, glorious black flooding the space behind his lids and soothing his thoughts. The playful touch of their tongues, kitten-rough, and when Leo pulled back for a quick, gentle nip to Joshua’s bottom lip, Joshua gave a tiny moan that was more a rush of breath, really. His thighs fell open.

Leo slotted into the space between them, cupped the back of Joshua’s head as they sank into the cushions together. The world tilted with them, lurching on its axis. Or maybe it was Leo’s heart lurching in his chest, like a drunkard trying to grapple for purchase.

Did that make sense? Nothing made sense. Everything made sense.

The buttons of their jeans caught as Leo pressed down, and Joshua exhaled on a breathy laugh that gusted over Leo’s chin. Why was he laughing? Was he laughing at Leo, with Leo? Was it normal for Joshua to laugh during sex?

“What’s so funny?” Leo asked, the words shaped against Joshua’s throat, and Joshua’s laugh cut off abruptly.

“Just…” he began, but fell silent when Leo slid a hand underneath his shirt, palm flat against Joshua’s stomach. Holding him down. “Just happy,” Joshua finished.

Leo’s lungs constricted around a hollow ache. He took a deep breath and claimed Joshua’s mouth for another kiss, Joshua’s fingers still tangled in his hair, their tips light against Leo’s scalp, grounding.

One kiss. One kiss, that was all it should have been, all Leo had wanted, but now—God. With Joshua warm and solid against him, moving in incremental shifts, restless and responsive… Leo wanted to learn everything there was—which touches would make Joshua gasp, what would have him squeeze his lids shut, how he’d rock into Leo’s fist, into Leo’s mouth, Leo’s body. Whether Joshua liked it slow and deep, fast and rough, or anything in between.

Leo skidded his mouth along Joshua’s jaw, then pressed his nose into the spot below Joshua’s ear, curls tickling his forehead. “Hey,” he murmured. His voice sounded foreign in his ears, husky and thin. “What do you want? Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”

Joshua’s fingers tightened in Leo’s hair, one hand sliding down Leo’s back to settle above the waistband of his jeans. “You,” Joshua said simply.

It should have been cheesy. Instead, it made heat crawl up Leo’s spine and pool low in his belly. He lifted his head, certain that his cheeks were flushed, and waited until Joshua’s eyes slid open. Their green was no more than a faint suggestion, a little hazy, pupils large in the glow of the TV.