“Bedroom,” Dawson said.
Leo blinked. Then his face changed, the cocky edge dissolving into something raw, and he stood and held out his hand. Dawson took it and let Leo pull him up off the couch and down the hall.
The bedroom was dark. Leo reached for the lamp, and Dawson caught his wrist. “Leave it off.”
“I want to see you.”
“You’ll feel me.”
Leo’s breath shook. Dawson walked him backward until his knees hit the mattress. He sat, and Dawson stood over him for a second, looking down at Leo in the dark, wearing nothing but his briefs with his mouth still wet. He put his hand on Leo’s chest and pushed him flat.
“Turn over,” Dawson said.
Leo turned, face-down on the mattress, arms folded under his head. Dawson could see the tension in his shoulders, the rise and fall of his chest, the long line of his back tapering to the waistband of his underwear. He hooked his fingers in the elastic and pulled them down. Leo lifted his hips to help, and then he was naked, spread out on the bed, and Dawson’s mouth went dry.
He started at Leo’s shoulders. Pressed his mouth to the knob of his spine and worked down, slow, tasting salt and heat, every vertebra, the dip of his lower back. Leo’s breathing went shallow. His fingers twisted in the sheets.
“Dawson. What are you?—”
Dawson’s hands spread Leo’s cheeks, pressed his mouth to him, and Leo’s whole body seized. A sound ripped out of him, raw, shocked, his hips jerking off the mattress. Dawson held him down with one hand on the small of his back and licked flat and slow, and Leo buried his face in the pillow and moaned.
“Oh fuck. Oh my god. Dawson?—”
Dawson didn’t answer. He licked into him, slow and wet, and Leo’s thighs trembled. His fists clenched in the sheets, and the sounds he was making were guttural, broken, nothing like the man who narrated his own highlight reel. Dawson gripped his hip, pulled him tighter against his mouth, and worked his tongue deeper as Leo sobbed into the pillow.
“Please,” Leo said. “Dawson, please, I need?—”
Dawson pulled back, pressed a kiss to the base of Leo’s spine, and then lightly bit the swell of his ass. Leo shuddered.
“Turn over.”
Leo turned. His cock was flushed and leaking against his stomach and his face was wrecked, lips bitten red, eyes glassy. Dawson had never seen him like this. He looked seconds away from shattering. Dawson felt the same.
Dawson settled between his legs and licked his palm before wrapping his hand around Leo’s cock. Leo’s hips arched off the bed. With his other hand, Dawson pressed one finger into him, still wet, and Leo bore down and took it to the knuckle with a groan that filled the room.
“You feel incredible,” Dawson said. He pressed deeper, and Leo’s breath shattered. “So tight. I keep thinking about what it’d feel like to get my cock inside you. Stretch you open.”
Leo made a sound like the air had been punched out of him. His hand found Dawson’s wrist and held on.
“More.” Leo’s voice had gone thin. “Give me more.”
Dawson worked a second finger in, slow, reading Leo’s body. Leo’s head tipped back on the pillow and his mouth fell open. Dawson curled his fingers and found the spot, and Leo’s back arched off the bed, a sound tearing out of him that Dawson felt in his own chest.
“Right there,” Leo managed. “Don’t stop. Dawson, fuck, right there?—”
Dawson kept his fingers moving and stroked Leo’s cock in the same rhythm. Leo was shaking, his hands hooked behind his own knees, holding himself open, and the sight of him spread out like that, trusting Dawson with every exposed inch of himself, made Dawson’s cock throb. Leo was close. Dawson could feel it in the way his body tightened, the way his breath went ragged and thin.
“Come for me,” Dawson said, low, against Leo’s knee.
Leo came with a shout, clenching tight around Dawson’s fingers, his cock pulsing in Dawson’s fist, his body arching off the bed. Dawson stroked him through it, every pulse, every shudder, watching Leo’s face the entire time because he never wanted to forget what this looked like.
Leo lay there breathing. His hand found Dawson’s thigh, traced up, wrapped around Dawson’s cock where he was still hard and aching, and Dawson’s vision blurred.
“Come here,” Leo said. Rough. Wrecked. “I want you closer.”
Dawson moved up, and Leo pulled him in and stroked him with a grip that was sure and steady, even while the rest of him was still shaking. Dawson braced one arm beside Leo’s head and fucked into his fist, and Leo watched his face with those blown-dark eyes. When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.
“Let go. I’ve got you.”
