Page 90 of Hard Check
Leo was underneath him, looking up at him with nothing held back, nothing guarded, and Dawson had to remind himself to breathe.
“Eyes open,” Leo said. “Stay with me.”
“I’m here.”
Leo pulled him down and kissed him, his tongue finding Dawson’s, one hand sliding down Dawson’s back and gripping his ass. Dawson ground against him, and Leo’s hips rose to meet him, both of them hard, the friction of cotton between them, and the groan Leo made into his mouth went straight through Dawson’s spine.
Dawson worked his way down. The hollow of Leo’s throat, the bruise on his ribs where he pressed his lips until Leo hissed, the line of his hip where the muscle cut sharply. Leo’s hand was in Dawson’s hair, guiding him lower.
“Yeah. Right there. Keep going.”
Dawson mouthed him through his briefs. Leo’s hips lifted off the bed and his fingers tightened in Dawson’s hair. A noise tore out of him that was low, open, and wrecked.
He stripped Leo’s underwear off, took Leo’s cock in his hand, stroked slow, and watched Leo’s face. Leo’s eyes were on his, staying, and the intimacy of that, being watched while he touched someone, being seen in the act of wanting, was the thing that used to terrify Dawson and now felt like the only solid ground in the room.
“Your mouth,” Leo said. “Dawson, please.”
Dawson lowered his head and took him in. Leo’s thighs tensed under his palms, his hips lifting before he caught himself, and Dawson pinned him down with one forearm across his hips and took him deeper. Leo’s hand found the back of his head and held on.
“Fuck. Fuck, that’s good. Don’t stop.”
Dawson didn’t stop. He worked him with his mouth and tongue, Leo’s cock heavy and hot against his palate, and Leo’s voice broke. Praise and profanity and Dawson’s name, all of it slurred together and shot straight to the base of Dawson’s spine.
He pulled off when Leo’s thighs started shaking. Leo was breathing hard, his stomach rising and falling, his cock slick and flushed against his belly.
Dawson reached into the nightstand and found a condom and lube. He shoved his briefs off and dropped them over the side of the bed. His hands were steady. First time they’d been steady all night.
He slicked his fingers and pressed one against Leo, circling, and Leo’s breath hitched. Dawson pushed in slow, watching Leo’s face for the shift from pressure to pleasure. Leo’s eyes fluttered and his lips parted, and when Dawson curled his finger, Leo’s back arched off the bed.
“More. Give me more.”
Two fingers. Leo’s body resisted, then opened for him, and the heat was staggering. Dawson worked him open with care, reading the hitch in Leo’s breathing, his thighs falling wider, the involuntary roll of his hips pushing back onto Dawson’s hand.
“Right there.” Leo’s voice had dropped into the register that undid Dawson, rough, cracked, stripped bare. “God, right there. Another.”
Three fingers, and Leo was rocking back onto his hand, his cock leaking against his stomach, his composure gone. Dawson watched him, and everything narrowed down to Leo — open underneath him, hair sticking to his forehead, mouth bitten red — and the only thing Dawson wanted in the world was to give him whatever he was asking for.
“Now,” Leo said. “I’m ready. I want you.”
Dawson sat back. Rolled the condom on, slicked himself, the mechanics grounding him. Leo watched him do it, eyes heavy, his lower lip caught between his teeth.
Dawson lined up. Leo wrapped his legs around Dawson’s waist and pulled him forward, and Dawson pushed in slowly, inch by inch. The heat and the pressure and the slow give of Leo’s body around him were almost too much. Leo held his gaze the entire time. Present. His jaw was set, his breathing controlled, and his hands gripped Dawson’s forearms hard enough to leave marks.
Dawson bottomed out and stopped. His forehead came to rest against Leo’s. Their breath mixed. Leo’s hand settled on the back of Dawson’s neck and held him there.
“Move,” Leo said.
Dawson moved. Slowly. Long strokes, drawing out, pressing back in, a rhythm that built like a current pulling them both. Leo’s body rose to meet him, matched him. This was different from the first time. Not urgent. Not desperate. Both of them looking each other in the face and choosing this.
Leo’s legs tightened around his waist, changing the angle, and the noise he made was ragged. “Right there. Dawson, right there, don’t change anything.”
Dawson didn’t change anything. He held the angle, the pace, and Leo’s head tipped back, exposing his throat, and Dawson put his mouth against it, felt the moan vibrate under his lips.
He braced on one arm, got his hand between them, and wrapped it around Leo’s cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. Leo’s whole body tightened. Dawson’s name came out of Leo, broken in the middle, repeated, a word that only meantthis.
“Look at me,” Dawson said.
Leo’s eyes opened. Dark. Wide. Full of everything they’d broken and rebuilt. Dawson held his gaze and kept moving, kept his hand working, and Dawson felt every second of it, the way Leo’s breath caught when their eyes met, the way Leo wouldn’t let him look away.
