Page 66 of Wear It Like a Crown

Joshua fought to form words. “Like you have to ask.”

“Tell me.” There was a curious edge of urgency to Leo’s voice, aneed for reassurance etched into the line of his shoulders. “I need to know how you like it.”

By way of a response, Joshua rolled his hips up at the same time as he jerked Leo into a kiss, the angle awkward and strained. Still so, so good. Leo’s mouth opened for him. He shifted to meet Joshua’s thrust, bouncing a little before he steadied himself with a hand on Joshua’s shoulder.

When they parted, Leo’s eyes had lost their focus. He sat up with one hand still flat on Joshua’s chest, the other reaching down to lace their fingers.

Joshua squeezed back. “Your show,” he whispered. “Any way you want it, I’m game.”

It took a moment while Leo studied him, something almost reverent in his eyes. Then Leo nodded, dipping down just long enough to steal another kiss, and sat up straighter, leaning back just slightly as he raised himself a few inches up and sank back down quickly. His chest rose with a breath, fell as he exhaled, and still he was staring at Joshua. Joshua couldn’t have looked away if he’d tried.

Again, Leo lifted up. This time, when he bounced down, he clenched around Joshua, a little twist to the motion. Joshua didn’t succeed in biting back his groan.

Leo used his free hand to flick his fringe out of his eyes. Tightening his hold around Joshua’s fingers, he changed the angle, rising up onto his knees. When he lowered himself back down, Joshua met him halfway. Leo’s lips parted around a sigh, lashes trembling, a tinge of red to his cheeks and a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. Holy fuck, he was just… He was incredible.Incredible.

“Want to stay inside you forever,” Joshua told him. As soon as it was out, he wished he could take it back. Too much, too soon, too bloody intense.

Leo blinked and focused back on Joshua. Before he could ask a question Joshua didn’t know how to answer just yet, Joshua wrapped a hand around Leo’s cock. He gave it a tight stroke in counterpoint to Leo’s next bounce, just one, just enough for a little friction, before he let go again.

Eyes sliding shut, Leo dropped his head, chin against his chest. “Want you to,” he mumbled, scarcely intelligible, and—oh.

Oh.

Joshua clenched his free hand into a fist, dug his nails into his palm to keep from coming. His hold on Leo’s fingers never loosened.

EIGHT

Leo woke in a cold sweat. Grey brightness cut into the space behind his lids, and as soon as he moved, he felt a twinge in his muscles, a soreness that was mostly pleasant, his body loose and relaxed.

Oh. Oh, fuck.

He’d spent the night with Joshua.

Slowly, Leo turned his head. Joshua lay sprawled next to him, cheek smushed into a pillow, lips parted in sleep. He was naked, the duvet having slipped down to pool around his waist, and a shiver of arousal zipped down Leo’s spine.

He stamped down on it.

Shit.Shit. This shouldn’t have happened. None of last night should have happened. Not that first time they’d fucked, Leo riding Joshua, deep and steady until his thighs had quivered with each shift and Joshua had flipped them over, thrusting into Leo with quick strokes and a hand on Leo’s dick, too good for Leo to last much longer. Not the second time either, in the tub with Leo’s fingers tangled in Joshua’s curls, little tugs as he’d fucked Joshua’s mouth, water rushing all around them, clumping Joshua’s lashes together. Joshua had sounded wrecked afterwards, voice raw, and Leo had pushed him down into the tub, had crawled on top of him and kissed him while wanking him off, had stillbeen kissing him when Joshua had spilled over Leo’s fist. They also shouldn’t have fallen asleep facing each other, hands laced between them, one of Leo’s ankles trapped between Joshua’s calves.

In the harsh light of the day, it seemed like a beautiful, impossible dream. And Leo was no less in love with Joshua than last night.

He’d made a mistake.

But there was also no way to undo this, no way to go back. There was no way forward either.

Leo shuffled down to the foot of the bed and slid out from underneath the duvet, grabbed yesterday’s boxers off the floor and snatched up Joshua’s plaid shirt. He stood silently for a moment, watching the rise and fall of Joshua’s chest, the twitch of his lashes that suggested a vivid dream. Quietly, clothes bundled in his arms and bare feet noiseless on the wooden floor, Leo crept out of the room.

As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t make a run for it. He also couldn’t stay in Joshua’s bed for even a second longer, not when he’d be fooling himself, would be fooling Joshua as well.

Want to stay inside you forever.

Leo’s foot caught on the kitchen door. He stumbled into the room, pausing just long enough to pull on the boxers and Joshua’s shirt, before he went to put the kettle on. Automatically, he moved to reach for the mug he’d claimed as his own, then stopped himself as he realised there were traces of himself scattered everywhere. His glance flickered to the blackboard, the one with Mo’s sketch of him and Nate, then moved on to the betting list pinned to the fridge.

He chose a different cup, one that came with a blue flower pattern on a white background, delicate porcelain that looked as though it would break if you dared handle it with anything but the utmost care. It was the kind of cup Leo’s mother would have kept in her cupboards, to bring out only on Sundays after church, or for very special guests.

Maybe she still did. Maybe she laughed her high, pearly laugh whenever someone inquired after her only son’s well-being and changed the topic to a more agreeable one.

Maybe she missed him.