It’s only been one day but he’s still anticipating a text or call. Now that things have been miraculously smoothed out between him and Leo, he feels like his life has been much less stressful. He’s no longer avoiding the other man or watching his every move to evaluate his motives. They have a mutual understanding, and they’re both following it pretty easily.

He's still reeling from their romp in his car. He’d been sufficiently embarrassed cleaning it later, even though Leo had been careful. He thinks he can still smell the other man in the space. It leads to an awkward drive to work, early in the morning when his impulse control is particularly bad. He had barely been able to make it home that afternoon before he’d thrown his clothes off onto his bed, his own touch sadly insufficient in the shadow of Leo’s hands. It had still taken him a shamefully short amount of time to climax, twisting on his bed with an image of Leo bending over him in the car stuck in his head.

So far, this casual arrangement is working in his favor. He’s been more relaxed than usual, and it’s been exciting, wondering what will happen next and whether they’ll meet up again. He’s tempted to be the one to reach out, but he’s still reluctant to give in, content to sit back and wait for the time being. After all, it seems like Leo doesn’t have an issue starting up encounters. Regular ones, too.

He’s thinking about their arrangement on Tuesday morning, on his way to work, when he gets a call from Alan.

“Hey. Good to hear from you,” he says, letting his phone connect to the audio system in his car as he drives.

“You’re on the road?”

“Yeah...going to work. What’s up?”

“Just wondering if you wanted to grab lunch today. You’ve been neglecting to keep me updated on the Leo situation, so I figured you needed a reminder.”

“Shit—I’m sorry, a lot happened—”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Alan replies, laughing. “It’s fine. I just wanted to make sure you knew you can talk to me.”

“Yeah. Thanks. Lunch would be great—I can get out any time between one and three. When are you free?”

“One-thirty is good for me. I’m dropping something off with James, so I’ll be by Center Court in the afternoon.”

“Perfect—I work a mile from the Court.”

“I’ll pick you up, then?”

“Sure. One-thirty.”

“One-thirty. I need details, so be ready to ask for a takeout box,” Alan laughs.

They exchange goodbyes and Austin hangs up via the control on his steering wheel, already smiling. He can’t wait to tell Alan about everything that’s happened.

***

LEO IS ALREADY AT WORK, laughing and talking to Rowan, a box in his arms. He props it open on the center table next to another two.

“Are those donuts?” Austin asks, peering into the cardboard containers.

“Yup. I went to get coffee this morning, and the guy working in the back offered me three for one. Made too many for the display case or something, and they like to make everything fresh.”

Yeah, I’m sure that’s what he meant, Austin thinks, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Rowan does in his place, nudging the man aside to pull out an old-fashioned cake donut.

“You’re kind of the ultimate pretty boy,” Rowan muses, examining the wheel in his hand. “All those looks and no common sense to speak of.”

“I have common sense,” Leo argues, grabbing a jelly donut. “I’m not an idiot.”

“That’s just what an idiot would say,” Austin points out, grinning, and Leo shoots him a fake-injured look.

“Thanks, friend,” he says, faking a pout. “I’ll remember that next time I bring donuts to work.”

“You won’t get free donuts again,” Austin promises him, slapping Rowan’s hand where it lingers in the air, waiting for a high-five.

“I know that. I’m thinking I should try the bistro next time,” Leo says, pondering. Rowan’s eyes widen as he bites into his donut, covering his mouth as he laughs around the food.

“You’re such a slut,” Austin says fondly.

“Just for food,” Leo winks, licking a spot of jelly from the corner of his mouth.

He realizes after the fact that their conversation is a little too familiar. Leo seems to recognize it, too, because he studiously turns away and stares at one of the sheets on the wall. Austin almost wants to laugh at the image, pleased that the man is trying to make him comfortable.

How easy was that? He wonders. He forgot how casually they fit together, banter traded between them as easily as an oversized jacket. It helps that Leo is a performer at heart, ready to fill in whatever role he needs to. He’s always willing to be the butt of the joke as much as he’s willing to be the star. It makes him extremely easy to get along with; he’s a chameleon in a crowd, quick to make friends and quicker to put people at ease.

I’m in dangerous territory, Austin thinks distantly, but he can’t quite bring himself to care. He knows where he stands and the regularity of it comforts him. With rules, he knows he can feel safe. Lower expectations are miraculously saving him at this point.

Still, he’s very aware of their last impulsive stint. Even though they have a rule—no mixing business with pleasure—he thinks they’re on a road to doing just that. He can’t bring himself to complain, though. Not after the parking garage. I’m weak, but I can’t exactly find a reason to say no.

The day passes fairly quickly, and he’s preparing for lunch when one of the other animators returns from getting coffee, arguing back and forth with another. He knows the woman—Shana, he thinks—but the man is unfamiliar. Their conversation, which he thinks started in a quieter tone, is becoming more obvious. No one else seems to notice, headphones blocking them from the rest of the room.

“I think you’re getting too worked up,” Shana says, leaning back in her chair. “Maybe—”

“No, I’m right,” the man insists, waving a hand. He looks ready to continue arguing but at that moment, Leo walks through the door.

“Going for lunch?” he asks Austin, leaning over the table to grab a pen.

“Yeah. Did you want me to bring something back?”

“No, thanks. I have to watch—”

“Hey,” the animator says, breaking into their conversation. Leo looks over, bemused, sending Austin a questioning glance as if to ask, Do you know him?

“Yes?”

“You’re a voice actor, right?”

“Yes, I am. Why?”

“Right, so, tell me: what reason is there for you getting paid more on a project than someone working on the actual mechanics of a game?”

Leo looks at Austin, seemingly at a loss, both confused and unsettled. Austin almost wants to say something, sure the animator has probably taken one too many energy shots, but the man continues.

“I mean, it’s not a difficult job. You don’t have to use your body or your face. Heck, you don’t even have to use your head, right?”

“I’m not sure where you’re getting your numbers, but I’m definitely not making more than you,” Leo says, tone even. Austin has to commend him for being so calm. “And my job isn’t regular.”

“You’re definitely making more than you deserve—”

“Cory, come on,” the woman says, sighing, but he continues.

“No, Shana, I’m making a point here. What he does is not a hard job, and he’s probably getting paid what some of the finishers are. People who know several different languages, can code—”

“You know, I actually did go to school,” Leo says, tone amused. “Not that it matters. The value of degrees is a completely different conversation.”

It’s what he says, easy and cheerful, but Austin can see the way Leo’s back is a straight line. He’s tense. It’s unusual; Leo generally seems to keep a balanced attitude. Something about the conversation is making him uncomfortable.

It hits him suddenly, a memory conjured by either circumstance or words. He’s back in college, sitting across from Leo on a couch, watching his partner twist the string on his hoodie around a finger. You’re actually doing something. Your degree is useful.

“Oh, shut up,” Austin says, suddenly incensed. His heart beats loudly in his chest like a war drum. He feels angry for Leo, knowing the other man is insecure but would never say a bad word to someone else. “Show me your portfolio, Cory. What exactly do you do that qualifies you for a six-figure salary?”

The man blinks, caught off guard, mouth opening and closing as he tries to come up with a response. Austin sighs, pulling his jacket on. His phone buzzes in his pocket—probably Alan—but he’s not done yet.

“I know you’re tired, but that’s no reason to say someone is worth less than you. Okay? Take a break, man. And maybe a nap.”

He shakes his head and leaves, irritated on top of hungry. He barely hears the footsteps behind him, and then he reaches the back door, prepared for confrontation when a hand pulls at his shoulder and prompts him to spin around.

Leo doesn’t kiss him. He is on fire, though, which is a good look. Austin can almost imagine he can see past the man’s gaze, into his mind and the things he’s thinking. The hand on his shoulder feels hot as a brand.

“Tonight?” The single word sounds as if it takes a great effort to say. Leo’s expression is neutral, studious, as if he is aware that he’s technically breaking the rule of ‘outside of business only.’

Not that Austin cares. Not when Leo is leaning at his side, an earthy cologne wafting from the wrist by Austin’s face. I’m so glad he asked, he thinks, because if he didn’t, I would have.

“Text me the time,” Austin says, equally cool, and then he turns and leaves. He feels like every step is a hammer to a nail, securing their plans with iron.

Alan is waiting in his car, one arm resting against the window, eyebrows raised high above his sunglasses.

“Wasn’t that—”

“Yup,” Austin says, not quite coherent enough to form a better response. Alan whistles, turning the steering wheel to pull out of the parking lot.

“I’m sure you have quite an interesting story to tell me, then.”

Austin talks as they drive, explaining the first meetup at the bar, his disastrous conversation with Damian, and the way he left everyone behind in favor of running away. By the time they get to the bistro, Alan is practically dying of anticipation.

“I can’t believe I have to put this on pause to order,” Alan mutters, standing at the counter. Austin laughs and orders after him, waiting until they’ve settled to continue.

“Anyway, things were tense, and then we all went out again. This past Saturday, actually. Somehow, I was just tipsy enough to consider...um...”

“You were just tipsy enough to screw him, even though you weren’t sure about being in a relationship?” Alan finishes, a grin on his face.

“I mean, yes...” Austin manages, knowing it sounds like an overused cliché. Alan laughs, moving back from the table as a young girl unloads their food.

“Thanks,” Alan tells the girl, smiling, and then he stabs his dill pickle with a toothpick. “Right. So now you’re doing it again?”

“Not exactly.”

“What is that, ‘not exactly?’ How can you not exactly be—”

“I mean, we’re definitely...um...we have an agreement,” he explains, shaking his head, and Alan groans theatrically, dropping his head into his hands. Austin rolls his eyes, taking a bite of his sandwich just to spite the man.

Alan waits, glaring over his BLT, and then Austin continues.

“I knew it was a shitty idea. I tried to play it off as a one-time thing but Leo was...willing to try something different. And I mean, he was persuasive. I do like stability and regularity. He said he’d be willing to have a casual relationship, so I don’t have to worry about commitment issues.”

“That’s what you decided? To dial it back to booty calls?” Alan asks, incredulous. “Why? I mean, I get that things didn’t end well before but hasn’t it been—”

“I know it’s been years,” Austin interrupts, annoyed, “but that’s not the point. I trusted him.”

“Okay. So, what makes you think you’re not trusting him now? You know, sometimes the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing is just a way to pretend you’re not attached.”

“Not for me,” Austin says firmly. “Friends with benefits can work; it’s not always going to end up being a relationship.”

“Yes, I agree,” Alan says, “but in this case, you two already work well together. I mean, I’m assuming, since you decided to jump him despite the emotional baggage.”

“Yes, okay, the sex was definitely great,” Austin grumbles, biting more of his sandwich to avoid the topic. Alan waits for him anyway, staring daggers as he eats his macaroni. “I guess I was just curious, too. If I had glorified it after so many years.”

“Did you?”

“No,” he says, sullen. I wish. “It would be so much easier if I did, but we just...”

“Work,” Alan finishes, smirking.

“Yeah,” Austin sighs, staring forlornly at his chips. Tonight. He feels marginally better, having unloaded his experience, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to change his mind. This is strictly a sexual relationship.

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy with it, then,” Alan says drily. “At least you’re all squared away.”

“We are,” Austin says, “and it’s extremely nice. I’m not worrying about his motives anymore or whether or not I can trust him.”

Alan takes a giant bite of his sandwich, humming in acknowledgment. One of his eyebrows is cocked as if he’s expecting Austin to say something specific. Whatever, he thinks. He’s not getting into it over lunch. He’s done what he set out to do, processed through everything that’s happened, and now he can get back to the life he has at hand. His new arrangement, which seems like it’s going to work better than he ever expected.

When he gets back to work, he’s relieved to have some sense of normalcy back. Leo is apparently recording, which makes it easier for Austin to settle and focus on his work. The rude animator is nowhere to be found; Austin hopes the man went home for the day.

I wonder when he’ll text me, he thinks, fleetingly glancing towards the door after a few hours. He’s not sure how their planning will work—should we sync our calendars? He smiles at the thought, imagining them scheduling availability as if they’re picking up a second job. He’s in the middle of his silly tangent when his phone buzzes softly from where it sits on top of a stack of papers. He glances around furtively, certain no one cares or is watching but too nervous to chance it. He flips a folder open, blocking his phone from view, and unlocks it.

Ten? The text sits there innocuously. A word, a time, a promise. Austin realizes he’s smiling and he squashes it down, shaking his head.

Ten o’clock. An answer forms almost immediately, surprising him.

Roommates are gone. Not as nice at your place, but the offer stands.

Austin considers. Should he accept? On the one hand, it would make sense to take turns every now and then—after all, this is supposed to be a mutually beneficial relationship. It would make sense to be mutually inconvenient, too. Still, he likes having as much of an upper hand as possible. He feels guilty for wanting to be comfortable, at least on his home turf, but he recognizes Leo’s attempt to make it a non-issue. It’s an offer, the man had explained. Not a request.

Easier at mine. Closer to the office. He sends it without thinking, which seems to be a common mistake for him, and then he stares down at the words. It’s true; his place is closer to the office. The way it’s framed, though, is almost like an invitation. If you stay the night, you won’t have to go as far, it says. Austin’s not even sure he thought about Leo staying the night but his subconscious clearly did.

See you then, Leo replies, short and sweet and without any fantastic vows or claims. It’s polite without being brusque. Austin sighs, leaning back in his chair, thinking. He wonders if things always go this smoothly for people in their position. No strings, no awkwardness—yet—and no messy emotions coming into play. Almost too good to be true.

Don’t jinx it, he tells himself, turning back to his work. We’re only getting started.

***

WHEN HE GETS HOME AFTER work, he’s hungry and tired. All he can think about is the food in his fridge and an episode of his current show, waiting for him on his laptop. He kicks off his shoes in a fluid move, draping his jacket over a chair, and pops open his button-up shirt.

He makes a sandwich in short order, the entire process so familiar he could do it blindfolded. This is the reality of his life: a comfortable routine, the security of familiarity putting him at ease. He props his laptop open on the arm of the sofa, leaning against the side and balancing a plate in his lap. He gets halfway through the episode and finishes his sandwich when he hears a faint noise.

“What was that?” he mutters to himself, pausing the show with a quick tap to the space bar. He waits, listening and thinking. My phone.

He crosses the room, taking his empty plate with him, and fishes the device from his jacket. It’s blinking with notices, a few promotional emails and some alerts. What catches his attention, though, is the text message.

I forgot, he thinks, horrified. He opens the message even as he berates himself, disbelieving. I can’t believe I forgot.

On my way. 20 mins tops. He fumbles back a quick reply, glancing around the apartment. It’s no messier than usual but there are a few plates in the sink, two glasses by the side. He’s sure the sheets on his bed are in need of a wash again, and his entryway is lined with shoes he keeps forgetting to put away.

“Wait,” he tells himself, pausing as he realizes something. This isn’t a date he’s getting ready for. They’re not going to be doing anything that will necessitate Leo walking around the apartment, giving it an inspection. If they’re doing things right, Leo won’t even have the time to notice what color the new tablecloth is, much less how well Austin’s cleaned up.

Austin’s a nervous person by habit, though, so he puts the shoes where they belong so they at least don’t literally trip over themselves. He wonders whether he should meet Leo downstairs and decides against it, staring around the empty space. He almost can’t believe that someone else—Leo—is about to be here with him.

“I need a drink,” he realizes, awareit’s a cop-out but too wired not to do something. He grabs his keys and phone, thinking he has time, and starts walking down the street.

He walks around the corner store, debating whether or not to buy anything, considering the pros and cons of greeting Leo with a bottle in hand. It’s not a very romantic image. He’s watching his reflection in the glass of the refrigerated aisle when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

About to pull up.

Ah, shit, Austin thinks, walking from the store as quickly as he can without running. His heart is beating too fast for the pace he’s going; he’s pretty sure it’s just nervousness and excitement. He can see the bus approaching his apartment, bright in the dark of night. The last bus on the line, he thinks. He walks up to the door just as Leo exits, surprised.

“If you needed more time—”

“No, it’s fine. I thought I dropped my wallet at the gas station,” Austin says quickly, the lie fitting easily. He stands there, toe-to-toe, taking in the man before him.

If he’s being honest, he thinks Leo always looks like an off-duty model. Most of his shirts are worn cotton, collars a little lower than average around his neck. His jeans are pale, faded enough to be perpetually in fashion and never needing replacement. Even his hair is slightly longer than an everyday cut, just enough to tuck behind his ear on one side.

Now I remember why I was excited, he thinks, gravitating closer.

“Did you find it?” Leo asks, voice low. He asks but doesn’t seem too interested in the answer, fingers brushing Austin’s wrists.

“It’s probably just in my pants,” Austin says, internally horrified at the phrasing as soon as he finishes. In my pants? What was that, some sort of shitty pickup line?

He doesn’t have to pick up Leo, though. They’re already here, already both involved in something. He doesn’t really have to worry about whether or not he’s funny enough because humor is not what Leo is here for.

The man still laughs a little, though, which makes Austin’s heart warm. Leo tugs him in, one hand on his neck, and Austin readily leans in.

It’s slower than the last time, he thinks. Testing. He can taste mint between them, probably a combination of his toothpaste and Leo’s. A funny thought, the simple fact of them both preparing for this. He slides them both into the hallway entrance to the complex, pushing his back against the metallic bar to open the door. They meander clumsily down the dimly lit hall, nothing catching their attention more than the other person.

He’s barely able to get the door open. Leo is too distracting, his hands warm against his sides, tongue softly pressing against his mouth. Somehow, he maneuvers the key into the right place, slipping through the gap with stumbling feet. He shuts it behind them with a cursory gesture, barely remembering to throw the lock. It slides into place heavily, echoing in the darkness.

He doesn’t turn a light on, and Leo makes no move to either. Leo carefully pushes him backwards, laughing when Austin gets his feet caught on dirty laundry. He can taste the chocolate on Leo’s lips, clinging sweetly as if it can’t bear to part from the man’s mouth. Me too, he thinks, dazedly as they reach the edge of his bed.

“You know,” Leo says, breaking away between kisses, “chocolate is an aphrodisiac.”

Austin pauses, staring up at him in disbelief. Leo looks positively smug.

“I can’t believe you—”

“Yes, you can,” Leo laughs, tugging at his tie with quick fingers. It seems to loosen magically, thrown elegantly to drape over a nearby chair.

Austin is at once envious and admiring of Leo’s grace. He wants to bottle and bathe in it, absorbing as much of the beauty as he possibly can. Actors, he thinks, with their dancing lessons and classes about using their bodies. And Leo knows how to use his; he can maneuver into impossible places, tracing every inch of Austin’s body as if he’s trying to sketch the anatomy.

Leo has his shirt off in an instant, again, and Austin can’t bring himself to care that he’s been beaten to the punch, again. He’s too preoccupied with the way Leo’s shoulders feel under his palms, smooth and just well-muscled enough. More than enough, really.

“Man, I can’t believe that guy at work,” Austin remembers, frowning, as Leo breaks away for air. Leo pauses in his ministrations, eyebrows rocketing towards his hairline.

“Really, Austin?”

“What?”

“You’re going to bring that dick up? He’s not worth your time,” he laughs, kissing Austin’s forehead as he tugs his shirt off. Damn. Lost my chance, Austin thinks, watching the offending article of clothing hit the floor.

“He was trying to say your job is worthless,” Austin tells him. “Does that not bother you?”

“If I argued with everyone about everything that bothered me—”

“It would be healthy,” Austin grumbles, tugging Leo’s belt off. “Just as long as you didn’t do it to strangers.”

“Well, he was a stranger to me.”

“Okay, point taken. We can move on,” Austin gripes, shivering when Leo’s fingers press against every bump of his spine.

“You’re such a grumpy old man,” Leo breathes, grinning, drawing Austin back in with his mouth. It’s the only reason he doesn’t respond, he tells himself, enjoying the contact too much to break it.

Leo finally rids Austin of his pants, quick and efficient, pushing him down onto the bed as he works. Austin sighs, grateful that they’re taking more time. Not that he expects it to last forever; they do, after all, have rules. Or at least, one rule. He’s pretty sure Leo will make the effort to leave early in the morning, giving Austin time to collect himself for work.

“You’re thinking too much,” Leo says, a finger teasing a small circle on Austin’s stomach.

“You’re not distracting enough,” Austin says drily, breath hitching when Leo’s hands press lower.

“You’re a queen,” Leo shoots back, chuckling, fingers dipping into the edge of Austin’s underwear. They slowly circle around his waist, nails barely scraping, and Austin instinctively arches up into the touch.

He groans in annoyance, aware Leo is just teasing him. He tries to resist the temptation to move, heat pounding through his veins as he anticipates the other man’s touch. Leo snaps the elastic band, smirking when Austin hisses.

“Just—” Austin starts, irritation mounting in his hazy mind, and just as he speaks, Leo yanks the last piece of clothing away. Austin chokes on his words, dizzy and glad he’s already lying down.

“What was that?” Leo asks in mock concern, frowning as he leaves Austin’s waist to hover over his chest.

“If you don’t do something—”

“What? You’re already a puddle of Austin goo on the bed,” Leo grins. Austin starts lifting himself up, determined to wipe the smirk off the man’s face, but when he rises, Leo’s hand flies south.

Austin falls back down again, an overenthusiastic moan ripping from his throat before he slaps a hand over it, embarrassed. Leo is still smirking. Smug bastard, Austin thinks, too caught up to do anything about it. Leo isn’t the one wanting right now; even though he asked, somehow, he knows Austin is the one itching for contact.

“Good,” Leo murmurs, stroking carefully. “No more complaining. Just...plenty...of happy noises.”

Austin can’t conjure up the presence of mind to agree. He tangles sheets in his fists, trying to hold on to what little control he has left but finds himself rapidly losing all desire to be in charge. I’ve been doing the chasing for years, he thinks. I’m tired of it. He feels giddy knowing that he doesn’t have to make sure his partner is interested; Leo is along for the ride, and he knows exactly what he wants just as much as Austin does. They know each other.

He gives in and moves, trying to push himself faster into Leo’s hand. It’s good and it’s not enough—he wants more contact, more warmth, more everything. He tries reaching up around Leo’s shoulders, scratching, trying to pull him closer. He knows what I want, he thinks, watching the man smile above him. Leo shifts just a little, right in place, and Austin almost doesn’t care that he’s not properly stretched. Part of his fevered brain is telling him fine, good, no preparation required, even as the sane part in a corner of his head is reminding him it’s a bad idea.

Luckily, or not, Leo is not going to do what Austin wants him to. Not that it’s a bad thing—somehow, it’s just what he needed, and that’s what shocks him. Leo rests against him, hot and heavy, and Austin makes some sort of noise—he’s not sure what; he can barely pay attention to what he’s seeing, much less hearing. They’re too much, he knows, but Leo makes a valiant attempt to stroke them both at the same time; Austin can tell he’s even neglecting himself to curl further around Austin, one arm straining on the bed like part of an ancient Greek statue.

Maybe he’s not in the right place to help but Austin does anyway, one hand leaving Leo’s shoulder to join him, fingers stumbling over the other man’s hand. They’re clumsy but desperate, feeling driving them closer together.

“Please hurry,” Austin says, aware that he’s being absurdly polite but not quite able to control the words that come out. All he knows is that he needs more, faster.

“Talk to me,” Leo says, kissing him once in a mess of tongue and teeth before moving away. “I want to hear your voice.”

“What do you want me to s—” he hisses, cut off, practically lifting off the mattress. When he looks down, all he can see is Leo’s head; he can just feel the warmth of a mouth around him, barely there, wet and warm.

Leo doesn’t move. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me, he thinks, fingers fumbling at the sheets as if he can shake words out of them.

“I—I’m glad you asked,” he says, stuttering through it, grateful when Leo pulls him in just a tiny bit further. He’s evil, he thinks, fully aware that it’s just another game the man is playing. “You know, middle of the week, frustration reaches a high—it’s so nice to be able to let off steam.”

There’s a tiny sound—just the barest tightening, Leo’s tongue resting against a vein, and Austin almost cries. He digs into the sheets, fingers clawing, certain he’s too close to last much longer.

Leo stops moving again.

“Fuck you,” Austin manages, half laughing and half giddy. “I forgot—how stubborn you are...yes, move—I hope you get a sore throat, you know, I hope your voice gets rough—I hope they hear you at work tomorrow and ask you what happened—”

He’s cut off when Leo takes him in further, moving so close Austin can feel his breath against his skin. There are bright white lights behind Austin’s closed eyes and he keeps talking, the action more of a reflex than a conscious decision.

“I hope you have to think of an excuse for having my dick in your throat,” he emphasizes, some mix of screaming and laughter filling the room as Leo moves faster, the pop of his mouth echoing obscenely.

He’s so close, his body vibrating with white-hot pleasure, and then he is suddenly cold when Leo pulls away. Austin jerks up, breathing heavily; Leo climbs further onto the bed beside him, just as labored, wiggling his fingers with a smirk. They’re wet.

“You’re going to feel this in the morning,” Austin growls, throwing Leo’s leg out of the way, feeling his pleasure sap away almost as quickly as it arose.

Leo laughs up until the point that Austin enters him, pushing with ease, wondering how on earth Leo managed to prepare himself while bent over Austin. He decides it’s a conversation for another day, if he ever remembers to have it, and focuses on moving quicker. He buries himself as far as he can get, hitting hard with every thrust. Leo is moaning in no time, the sheets yanking up and down with his body.

He has no idea where his energy is coming from, although he suspects it’s just out of petty spite for Leo’s teasing. Not that it matters, of course. He likes the way it feels when their skin hits, the sound beating in his ears with a slap. Leo is red and sweaty, mouth a rosy spot on his face, and Austin can tell his voice is cracking on some notes. Good, he thinks, liking the idea of leaving a mark even as he plans to buy tea for the next time.

He reaches his limit first, yelling into Leo’s shoulder before he bites it. He stays in place, moving just enough and reaching a hand between them to help the man along, triumphant when it only takes a moment longer. Leo spills over him, gasping for breath, deep blond lashes fanned out over his cheeks.

“Can you even talk?” Austin asks, laughing breathlessly as he carefully pulls away. Leo still hisses, which makes him feel minutely guilty.

“Fuck you,” the man says, gravelly, as if he’s just woken up from nine hours of sleep. Austin smiles, leaning closer.

“I just did.”

Leo giggles brokenly, shaking his head as Austin leans down to kiss him. The man tastes faintly bitter and salty, almost as rich as the chocolate from before.

“I’m glad I’m not recording tomorrow,” Leo sighs, one hand pushing strands of hair from his face.

“It was your idea.”

“I know. That’s why I said I’m glad.”

Austin shakes his head, rolling off the bed, keeping his hand away from the sheets. Not that there’s much to save—he’s starting to question whether he should fine Leo for laundry detergent.

“Wake me up when you’re done,” Leo murmurs, already draped across one half of the bed, and Austin smiles fondly.

“Cold water. Got it.”

The man tiredly flips him off, barely able to keep his arm off the bed, and Austin laughs. He showers quickly, the hot water rolling off his tired body, and as soon as he’s done he carries a handful of water out. It’s almost gone by the time he gets to the bed but it still works.

“Seriously,” Leo groans, rising from sleep like a dead man. Austin grins, kissing him one last time and enjoying the languid motion.

“Go shower. You stink.”

“No thanks to you.”

He knows he’ll sleep well for the night so he sets an extra alarm before pulling the sheets up, tucking them close as he warms under the covers. That was good, he thinks, yawning. I can’t wait to do it again.