The playground swing chain groaned under Leo's weight. Forty years old and still squeezing into childhood relics every Tuesday, watching toddlers chase pigeons. His therapist called it "reparenting the inner child." Leo called it cheaper than bourbon.
"Remember that time Mom caught us stealing her lipstick?" Mark dropped onto the adjacent swing, his bicep straining the seam of his faded band tee. Identical twins, both built like retired linebackers, yet Mark always looked effortlessly put together. Leo felt like a crumpled grocery bag in comparison.
"Christ, she chased us with the wooden spoon." Leo chuckled, kicking at the woodchips. "You took the blame. Said I was too pretty for welts." The memory warmed him — Mark’s fierce loyalty, the way he’d shield Leo from everything, even Mom’s wrath.
Mark’s laugh faded. He stared at his calloused hands. "Always hated seeing you hurt." The silence stretched, thick as August humidity. A toddler shrieked nearby, but Mark’s eyes stayed locked on Leo’s. "Even now."
Leo’s pulse spiked. That look — too raw, too familiar. He’d seen it in his own mirror after midnight, wrestling with truths he’d buried deeper than Dad’s old whiskey stash. He opened his mouth to deflect with a joke about bench presses, but Mark spoke first, voice rough. "I’ve been lying to myself, Lee. About … who I want."
The admission hung between them like live wire. Leo’s throat tightened. He’d rehearsed this moment for years in the dark, imagining courage he never had. Now Mark had ripped the bandage off, exposing the wound they’d both ignored. Leo’s swing creaked as he leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Me too," he whispered. The words tasted like freedom.
Mark reached out slowly, knuckles brushing Leo’s forearm. The contact sent a jolt through him — electric and terrifying. Their eyes met again, decades of shared history collapsing into this single, breathless point. Twin flames, finally igniting.
“Always you,” Mark murmured. His thumb traced the ridge of Leo’s wrist bone, rough skin catching on stubble. “Every damn time I closed my eyes.” The confession hung raw, stripped of pretense. Leo felt the weight lift, replaced by a dizzying lightness. He turned his hand, palm up, fingers threading through Mark’s calloused ones. The grip was solid, anchoring. Real. Around them, the playground faded — the shrieks of children, the distant traffic, the rustle of leaves — all muffled into insignificance.
“Why now?” Leo asked, voice thick. He squeezed Mark’s hand tighter, afraid this might dissolve like morning mist. Mark leaned in, forehead pressing against Leo’s temple. The scent of sweat and cheap soap filled Leo’s senses — achingly familiar, yet suddenly charged.
“I saw you last Tuesday,” Mark breathed against Leo’s skin. “Watching that sunset alone. You looked … hollowed out.” His free hand cupped the back of Leo’s neck, thumb stroking the tense muscle there. “I couldn’t stand it. Knew if I didn’t say it, I’d crack.” The intimacy of the touch, the low rasp of Mark’s voice, unraveled Leo completely. He closed his eyes, leaning into the solid warmth.
A sharp cry pierced the moment — a toddler tripped nearby, wailing. They jerked apart instinctively, hands slipping free. Leo’s chest tightened with loss. Mark stood abruptly, his shadow falling over Leo. He offered his hand again, not for comfort, but demand. “Come home with me,” he said, voice low, urgent. “Not as brothers.” Leo stared at that outstretched hand — weathered, strong, trembling faintly. The world tilted. He took it.
The drive was thick silence. Leo watched Mark grip the steering wheel, knuckles pale. The familiar dashboard felt alien, charged. Mark parked beside Leo’s own truck outside their duplex — identical homes, separate lives, a canyon between them. Inside Mark’s place, the scent of pine cleaner and stale coffee hung heavy. No photos adorned the walls; Mark always said it felt like living in a museum. Leo hovered awkwardly near the worn sofa.
Mark moved to the kitchenette, filling a kettle. "Tea?" His voice was rough, almost detached. Leo shook his head. The mundane gesture felt surreal. Mark leaned against the counter, arms crossed, studying Leo. "Scared?" he asked bluntly.
"Terrified," Leo admitted. He gestured at the identical duplex wall separating their lives. "Forty years of … this. What if we break it?"
Mark uncrossed his arms. He crossed the small space in two strides, stopping inches from Leo. The pine cleaner scent faded, replaced by the warm, earthy smell of Mark’s skin. "We already broke it," he said, voice low but steady. His gaze dropped to Leo’s mouth. "When I kissed you behind the garage at sixteen. When you held my hand after Dad’s funeral." He lifted a calloused hand, hovering near Leo’s jawline. "We’ve been breaking it our whole damn lives, Lee. We just didn’t admit it."
Leo swallowed hard. The truth of it slammed into him — stolen glances across crowded rooms, lingering touches disguised as brotherly pats, nights spent aching in twin beds separated only by drywall. Forty years of coded longing. "So what now?" he breathed. "Do we … glue it back together wrong?"
Mark’s hovering hand finally settled, rough fingertips tracing Leo’s jawline. The touch wasn’t tentative; it was deliberate, mapping territory long forbidden. "Maybe we stop pretending it was ever whole." His thumb brushed Leo’s lower lip. "Maybe we build something new. Right here." The kitchenette felt suddenly cavernous, charged with possibility. Leo leaned infinitesimally into the touch, the rasp of stubble against calloused skin sending sparks down his spine.
"New," Leo echoed, the word thick. He searched Mark’s eyes – the same hazel as his own, yet infinitely deeper now. Decades of shared secrets, unspoken pain, and stifled yearning stared back. "Feels like jumping off a cliff." His hand lifted, mirroring Mark, fingers trembling slightly before settling against his twin’s cheek. The warmth was startlingly intimate. He felt the slight tremor beneath Mark’s skin too – not fear, but a raw, vibrating tension.
Mark leaned into the touch, closing the final inch. His forehead pressed against Leo’s. "We’ve been falling since we were kids," he murmured, breath warm on Leo’s lips. "Just didn’t hit ground till now." His free hand slid around Leo’s waist, pulling him closer. The solid muscle beneath Mark’s worn tee met Leo’s chest. The familiarity of their bodies – same height, same build – felt utterly alien and profoundly right simultaneously. Leo’s arms wrapped around Mark’s back, fingers digging into the fabric. No space remained. The silence wasn’t empty; it hummed with forty years of suppressed electricity finally arcing.
"Show me," Leo breathed, the words barely audible. He tilted his head slightly, an unspoken offering. Mark’s thumb still rested on Leo’s lower lip. He traced it once more, a deliberate caress, before his hand slid back to cradle Leo’s jaw. Their eyes locked – twin hazel mirrors reflecting decades of shared history, pain, and this terrifying, exhilarating fracture. Mark didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance.
The kiss wasn’t tentative exploration. It was collision. Decades of suppressed longing ignited instantly, fierce and desperate. Leo gasped against Mark’s mouth, his fingers tightening in the fabric of Mark’s shirt. It was familiar heat – the shared warmth of childhood beds – yet charged with an intensity that stole Leo’s breath.
Mark’s arms locked tighter around him, pulling him flush against the solid wall of muscle Leo knew intimately, yet never like this. The roughness of Mark’s stubble scraped Leo’s chin, a grounding counterpoint to the dizzying softness of his lips. The taste was Mark – coffee faint beneath the unique salt-sweetness Leo had always known, now amplified, intimate.
Mark broke the kiss, breath ragged. His eyes, dark and urgent, held Leo’s. “Upstairs,” he rasped, the command rough-edged. His hand slid down Leo’s arm, fingers interlacing tightly with Leo’s. There was no hesitation in the grip, only fierce possession. He pulled Leo towards the narrow staircase, his stride purposeful, almost impatient.
Leo stumbled slightly on the worn carpet edge, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. The ascent felt charged, each creak of the wooden steps echoing the seismic shift in their world. Mark didn’t glance back, his broad shoulders blocking Leo’s view ahead, radiating a heat Leo could feel radiating onto his skin.
Mark’s bedroom was starkly functional – a double bed with a plain grey duvet, a single dresser, blinds drawn against the afternoon light. The air smelled faintly of laundry detergent and the cedar closet liner. Mark released Leo’s hand only to turn and face him fully, his gaze intense, unwavering.
"I'm going to undress you now," he stated, voice low and thick. It wasn't a request. His hands went to the hem of Leo’s worn flannel shirt. Leo stood frozen, pulse roaring in his ears, as Mark methodically undid each button. The fabric parted, revealing Leo’s chest, the familiar tattoos Mark knew by heart now seeming intensely private. The shirt slid off Leo’s shoulders. Mark’s fingers, surprisingly deft, worked the buckle of Leo’s belt next, the rasp loud in the quiet room. Jeans and boxers followed in one swift motion, pooling around Leo’s ankles. Leo stepped out of them and stood naked, exposed, the cool air prickling his skin, his thick erection jutting forward, undeniable.
Mark stepped back, his gaze traveling slowly down Leo’s body and back up, lingering on his cock. "My turn," Leo whispered, his voice rough. His hands trembled only slightly as he reached for Mark’s own flannel. He mirrored Mark’s actions: buttons undone one by one, the fabric pushed off broad shoulders. His fingers fumbled momentarily with Mark’s belt buckle, a familiar object suddenly charged with intimacy. He tugged jeans and briefs down Mark’s muscular thighs. Mark kicked them aside.
Twin statues, stripped bare, stood facing each other – identical builds, powerful shoulders, defined torsos, thick thighs. Twin erections, hard and flushed, mirrored each other’s urgency.
Mark broke the stillness. His calloused hands landed on Leo’s hips, pulling him close until their bodies collided – skin against hot skin, rigid heat pressed against rigid heat. Leo gasped, the sensation overwhelming: the solid muscle he knew so well felt alien, electrifying. Mark leaned in, burying his face in the crook of Leo’s neck, inhaling deeply.
"God, Leo," he groaned, his voice vibrating against Leo’s throat. "Always smelled like home." His lips traced a path upwards, rough stubble scraping Leo’s jawline, until their mouths crashed together again. This kiss was deeper, hungrier, tongues tangling with a desperation that spoke of forty years of pent-up need. Leo’s hands roamed Mark’s back, feeling the familiar ridges of muscle, the slight dip of his spine, now mapping forbidden territory with trembling fingers.
Mark guided Leo backwards until his calves hit the edge of the bed. He broke the kiss, his eyes dark pools reflecting the dim light filtering through the blinds. "Lie down on your back," he commanded, the roughness in his voice sending shivers down Leo’s spine.
Leo obeyed, sinking onto the cool grey duvet, the fabric whispering beneath him. Mark followed him down, knees bracketing Leo’s hips, his weight settling with possessive certainty. He lowered himself, grinding his erection against Leo’s, the friction sparking a groan from both of them. The sensation was overwhelming — hot, hard pressure against Leo’s own aching length, skin slick with sweat sliding together.
"Look at us," Mark breathed, his voice thick with wonder and lust. He lifted himself slightly, gazing down at their bodies aligned. Twin pillars of flushed flesh strained upwards, tips glistening, separated only by a trembling breath of air.
Mark reached down, wrapping one large, calloused hand around both their lengths. The contact was electric, rough skin encircling impossibly hot silk. Leo cried out, arching off the bed, his hips jerking instinctively into the tight, encompassing grip.
"Easy," Mark murmured, his own breath ragged. He squeezed gently, his thumb sliding over the slick heads, smearing precum between them. "Feel that? Both of us ... together."
He began a slow, deliberate stroke, dragging his fist along their joined shafts. The friction was exquisite agony — Leo could feel every ridge of Mark's own erection pressed hard against his, the shared heat building like a furnace. He gasped, his hands scrabbling at Mark’s hips, fingers digging into the solid muscle there. "Mark —"
"Shh," Mark murmured, leaning down to capture Leo’s mouth again, swallowing his gasp. His tongue plunged deep, mimicking the rhythm of his hand. He pumped steadily, his grip firm and knowing, the calluses on his palm catching deliciously on Leo’s sensitive skin.
Leo bucked upwards, desperate for more friction, more contact. Mark responded, grinding his hips down, adding the weight of his body to the pressure. The slick slide intensified, precum easing the way, mingling between them in a hot, sticky mess.
Mark broke the kiss, panting. "I want to taste you," he rasped, his gaze fixed on Leo’s mouth. Before Leo could react, Mark shifted lower, trailing kisses down Leo’s chest, tongue swirling around a nipple, teeth grazing lightly. Leo gasped, arching, fingers tangling in Mark’s dark hair. Mark continued his descent, kissing Leo’s abdomen, the trail of hair leading downward. He paused, breathing hotly against Leo’s hipbone. Then, with deliberate slowness, he took Leo’s cock into his mouth.
The heat was instantaneous, overwhelming. Mark’s tongue pressed flat against the underside, swirling around the head before sinking deeper. Leo cried out, hips lifting off the bed. Mark’s hands pinned Leo’s hips firmly to the mattress, holding him still as he sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks. The sensation was electric, a direct line to Leo’s core — wet, tight heat, rhythmic pressure. Mark moaned around him, the vibration sending tremors through Leo’s body.
"Mark — God —" Leo choked out, his knuckles white against the grey duvet.
Mark pulled off with a wet pop, his lips glistening. "Your turn," he commanded, voice thick. He straddled Leo’s chest, knees framing Leo’s shoulders.
Leo didn’t hesitate. He gripped Mark’s hips, pulling him down, taking Mark’s thick cock deep into his own mouth. The taste was musky, salt-bitter, intensely Mark. Leo sucked hard, tongue pressing along the vein beneath the shaft, mimicking Mark’s rhythm.
Mark groaned above him, fingers tightening in Leo’s hair. "Fuck, Lee — yes —" Leo felt Mark’s thighs tremble against his ears.
Mark pulled back, shifting again. He reached for the bedside drawer, fumbling inside, returning with a small bottle of lube. He squeezed a slick dollop onto his fingers, then pressed one against Leo’s anal sphincter. Leo tensed instinctively.
"Easy," Mark murmured, leaning down to kiss Leo deeply, tongue soothing as his finger circled, then pressed slowly inward. The stretch was sharp, unfamiliar, then eased into a deep, filling pressure.
Leo relaxed into it, pushing back against Mark’s hand. "More," Leo breathed against Mark’s lips.
Mark added a second finger, scissoring gently, stretching Leo open. The burn faded, replaced by a throbbing fullness that radiated heat through Leo’s lower belly. Mark curled his fingers, brushing against a spot that made Leo gasp, stars bursting behind his eyelids.
"There?" Mark asked, his voice rough with need.
Leo nodded frantically. "Do it. Now."
Mark slicked his own cock, thick and flushed, pressing the head against Leo’s ass hole. He locked eyes with Leo, holding his gaze as he pushed forward slowly, inexorably. The stretch was intense, breathtaking — Leo felt himself yielding, opening, the pressure building to a sharp, bright point before dissolving into a deep, consuming fullness. Mark sank deeper, inch by inch, until he was fully seated, hips flush against Leo’s ass.
They both froze, breathing ragged, connected utterly. Leo felt Mark’s cock pulsing inside him, hot and alive. Mark shuddered, dropping his forehead to Leo’s. "Lee," he whispered, raw awe in his voice. "You feel ... perfect." He began to move.
Slowly at first, Mark withdrew almost entirely before pushing back in with deliberate force. The drag was exquisite friction, filling Leo completely each time Mark seated himself deep.
Leo gasped, wrapping his legs around Mark’s hips, pulling him closer. "Harder," he urged, arching up.
Mark obeyed, thrusts deepening, rhythm quickening. Each powerful drive hit Leo’s prostate dead-on, sparks of pleasure radiating outwards, coiling tight in his belly. He cried out, fingers digging into Mark’s sweat-slicked shoulders. "Right there — don’t stop!"
Mark groaned, the sound vibrating through Leo’s chest. He leaned down, capturing Leo’s mouth in a messy, hungry kiss. Their tongues tangled as Mark’s hips pistoned relentlessly. Leo’s own cock, trapped and leaking between their stomachs, throbbed with each jolt of friction. He tore his mouth free. "Touch me," he gasped. "Need to feel you."
Mark immediately wrapped a hand around Leo’s shaft, his grip slick with sweat and precum. He pumped in time with his thrusts, the dual sensations pushing Leo towards the edge blindingly fast. Leo felt the coil inside him tighten unbearably. "Mark — I’m close —"
"Me too," Mark gritted out, his thrusts becoming frantic, losing rhythm. He buried his face in Leo’s neck, teeth scraping skin. "Come for me, Lee. Now."
The command, the rough slide of Mark’s hand, the relentless pressure inside — it shattered Leo. He arched violently off the bed, a ragged cry tearing from his throat as his orgasm ripped through him. Hot stripes of sperm pulsed onto his stomach and Mark’s hand.
Feeling Leo convulse around him, hearing his cry, Mark slammed home one last time, hips grinding deep. A guttural roar escaped him as he came, flooding Leo’s bowels with thick pulses of warm sperm. He collapsed onto Leo, trembling, their hearts hammering against each other’s chests.
They lay tangled, breathing harshly in the dim room. Mark lifted his head slightly, looking down at Leo. His thumb brushed a stray tear from Leo’s temple Leo hadn’t known was there. "Okay?" Mark asked, voice rough but tender.
Leo traced the familiar curve of Mark’s jaw. "Better than okay," he breathed, a shaky smile forming. "Forty years ... and we finally found the right damn glue." He felt Mark’s chuckle rumble against him, warm and solid. Home.
*****
The grey duvet was cool against Leo’s back where Mark’s weight had lifted. He blinked, disoriented, as late afternoon light slanted through the blinds, painting stripes across Mark’s sleeping face. Dust motes danced in the stillness. Hours had bled away in tangled limbs and exhausted silence. Leo watched Mark breathe, the rise and fall of his chest stirring a profound tenderness mixed with a simmering, renewed hunger. The air still hung thick with the musk of sex and sweat – proof, undeniable.
Carefully, Leo shifted, easing onto his side. His muscles protested, pleasantly sore. He propped himself up on an elbow, studying Mark. The harsh lines of his face were softened in sleep, lips slightly parted. Leo’s gaze drifted lower, over the powerful chest, down the defined abdomen, to the thick curve of Mark’s hip, the dark hair at his groin. His own cock stirred, heavy against his thigh. A slow, deliberate smile touched Leo’s lips.
He leaned in, pressing a feather-light kiss to Mark’s shoulder. Mark stirred, a low groan escaping him. Leo kissed his collarbone, then the hollow of his throat, tasting salt. Mark’s eyelids fluttered open, hazy at first, then focusing on Leo with startling intensity.
"Leo?" His voice was sleep-rough.
"Hey there, sunshine," Leo murmured, his hand drifting down Mark’s flank, skimming the dip of his waist. His fingers traced the line of Mark’s hipbone, dipping lower, brushing the coarse hair. Mark inhaled sharply, his eyes darkening. Leo’s smile widened. He hooked a leg over Mark’s hips, straddling him, the movement deliberate, claiming. Leo felt Mark’s cock hardening instantly against his ass. "My turn," Leo growled, the words low and certain. He leaned down, capturing Mark’s mouth in a deep, possessive kiss. Mark groaned into it, hands rising to grip Leo’s hips, fingers digging in.
Leo broke the kiss, sitting back fully astride Mark. He reached behind him, fingers slicking himself with the cooling lube pooled near Mark’s thigh. He felt Mark’s gaze, hot and unwavering, fixed on him.
"Look at me," Leo commanded. Mark obeyed instantly, his eyes locked onto Leo’s. Holding that intense gaze, Leo guided Mark’s thick cockhead to his ass hole. He pressed down slowly, deliberately, feeling the stretch anew, the delicious burn yielding to deep, consuming pressure as he sank down, taking Mark inch by glorious inch until he was fully seated, Mark buried deep inside him. A shuddering gasp escaped Mark, his hands tightening on Leo’s hips.
Leo paused, savoring the fullness, the connection. He rolled his hips experimentally, grinding against Mark’s pelvis. A low moan rumbled from Mark’s chest. "Fuck, Leo," he rasped, his hips lifting instinctively.
"Stay still," Leo ordered, voice thick with control. He braced his hands on Mark’s broad chest, fingers splayed over familiar muscle. "Just feel." He began to move, lifting himself slowly, almost withdrawing Mark completely, then sinking back down with deliberate, grinding force.
Each descent drove Mark deeper, hitting Leo’s own sweet spot with perfect precision, sending sparks up his spine. He set a slow, deep rhythm, watching Mark’s face contort with pleasure, his jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut then snapping open to stare at Leo with raw, desperate need.
Leo felt powerful, utterly in control, riding Mark with a confidence born of decades of intimacy finally unleashed. Mark’s hips bucked upwards, seeking more friction, but Leo pinned him down with his weight, maintaining the torturously slow pace.
"Patience," Leo breathed, a smirk playing on his lips as he felt Mark tremble beneath him. He leaned forward, whispering against Mark’s ear, "You took your time with me. Now it’s my time." He punctuated the words with another deep, grinding thrust, drawing a choked groan from Mark’s throat.
The control was heady, the connection absolute. Forty years of waiting, and now, Leo was taking exactly what he wanted.
Mark bucked beneath him, a desperate groan tearing from his throat as Leo rode him with slow, grinding precision. Each deep descent sent shockwaves through Leo, hitting his prostate dead-on. He watched Mark unravel beneath him – the clenched jaw, the cords straining in his neck, the raw, pleading hunger in his eyes.
Leo leaned forward, bracing his hands on Mark’s sweat-slicked chest, whispering, "Close?" Mark could only nod frantically, his hips lifting helplessly. Leo smiled, cruel and kind. "Hold it," he commanded, slowing his rhythm to a near-still grind. Mark whimpered, trembling violently.
Then Leo dropped his full weight, slamming down hard. Mark arched off the bed, a ragged shout echoing off the bare walls as his orgasm ripped through him. Thick pulses of sperm flooded Leo’s ass, hot and urgent. Mark’s hands convulsed on Leo’s hips, his eyes squeezed shut, lost in the shuddering release.
The sensation of Mark pulsing inside him, the choked cries – it was the trigger. Leo’s own control snapped. He reared back, lifting himself almost entirely off Mark’s softening cock, his own erection jutting thick and flushed. With a guttural cry, Leo came hard. Hot jets of sperm sprayed across Mark’s heaving chest and abdomen, stripes of white stark against tanned muscle and dark hair. It pulsed onto Mark’s pecs, pooled in the hollow of his stomach, glistening in the dim light.
Leo collapsed forward, spent, his forehead resting against Mark’s sternum. He felt Mark’s arms encircle him, pulling him close despite the sticky mess cooling between them. Silence settled, thick and comfortable as the grey duvet beneath them. Outside, a distant lawnmower buzzed, a mundane counterpoint to the seismic shift inside these walls.
Mark traced idle patterns on Leo’s sweat-damp shoulder blade. "So," he finally murmured, his voice rough with spent passion but edged with a new kind of quietude. "Where the hell do we go from here?"
Leo lifted his head slightly, meeting Mark’s gaze. The raw need had softened into something deeper, more contemplative. He glanced towards the wall separating Mark’s bedroom from his own identical room next door. He could practically map the layout: his dresser mirroring Mark’s, his own bed pressed against that same drywall barrier they’d whispered secrets through as kids. A slow smile spread across Leo’s face, genuine and hopeful.
"Knock it down," Leo said simply. He gestured with his chin towards the dividing wall. "Tear down that damn wall. Make this duplex whole again." He saw the flicker of surprise, then dawning understanding in Mark’s eyes. "Forty years pretending we lived separate lives when we never really did. Separate kitchens, separate living rooms … all just theatre." Leo’s finger traced the line of Mark’s jaw. "Let’s stop acting. Let’s build something new right here, properly. One home."
Mark stared at the wall, a complex mix of emotions crossing his face – disbelief, relief, a fierce kind of joy. He imagined mornings without crossing the porch threshold, shared coffee brewing in one kitchen, the echo of their voices filling a single, open space. "One home," Mark echoed, the words tasting foreign yet utterly right. He tightened his arms around Leo. "Yeah. Yeah, Leo. Tear it the fuck down." He pressed a kiss to Leo’s temple, lingering. "Start fresh. Together." The weight of decades of hiding dissolved, replaced by the solid, exhilarating certainty of shared walls finally falling.
Silence stretched, comfortable and thick with promise. Leo traced the drying streaks of sperm on Mark’s chest. "Your turn," Mark murmured suddenly, his voice rough but soft. He shifted beneath Leo, his gaze intense. "I want to feel you inside me. Want … want to know what that was like for you." The vulnerability in his words was stark, a deliberate lowering of defenses Leo rarely witnessed.
Leo’s breath caught. He nodded slowly, understanding blooming. "Anything for you," he breathed. He slid off Mark, the cool air hitting their damp skin. Mark rolled onto his back, spreading his legs deliberately, knees bent. The position was an offering, a surrender Leo felt deep in his core. He knelt between Mark’s thighs, the worn carpet rough against his knees. Gently, he hooked his hands beneath Mark’s hips, lifting them slightly. The intimacy of the pose, Mark utterly exposed and trusting, stole Leo’s breath.
He bent forward, pressing a kiss to the inside of Mark’s thigh, tasting salt and musk. Mark shuddered. Leo moved lower, his breath ghosting over Mark’s balls, then lower still. He pressed his mouth against Mark’s ass hole, a soft, deliberate kiss. Mark gasped, hips jerking slightly. Leo didn’t hesitate. He licked firmly, a broad, wet stroke across the tight furl. Mark groaned, a deep, guttural sound Leo had never heard before. Leo circled the rim with the flat of his tongue, applying gentle pressure, feeling the muscle yield infinitesimally.
He pressed in, tongue probing gently, insistently. Mark cried out, fingers twisting in the grey duvet. "Fuck, Leo!" The sensation was utterly alien, intensely intimate – the wet heat, the probing pressure, the sheer vulnerability of it. Leo worked slowly, thoroughly, mapping Mark’s body with his tongue, learning the sensitive spots by the hitches in Mark’s breath, the desperate arch of his back. He felt Mark trembling beneath him, heard the choked-off moans, tasted the unique, musky salt of him. Mark’s cock lay thick and flushed against his stomach, leaking steadily onto his skin. Leo knew, with a fierce certainty, that Mark was experiencing a pleasure entirely new, a surrender both terrifying and sublime. He kept at it, relentless and tender, driving Mark towards a precipice Leo had just discovered himself. The air thickened with Mark’s ragged breaths and the slick, intimate sounds of Leo’s devotion.
Mark’s hips bucked helplessly. "Enough … please … inside," he gasped, voice shattered. "Need you … now."
Leo lifted his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Mark’s eyes were wild, pleading, pupils blown wide. Leo nodded, squeezing slick lube onto his fingers. He pressed one, then two fingers deep into Mark, finding him already yielding, stretched open from Leo’s tongue. Mark groaned, pushing down onto Leo’s hand.
"Found it," Leo murmured, curling his fingers deliberately.
Mark gasped, back arching off the bed. "Christ! Right there."
Leo withdrew his fingers, slicking his own aching erection. He positioned himself, pressing the head against Mark’s slicked entrance. Mark’s gaze locked onto his, fierce and trusting. "Do it."
Slowly, deliberately, Leo pushed forward. The resistance was intense, Mark’s body yielding inch by agonizing inch. Leo watched Mark’s jaw clench, the tendons in his neck corded tight. "Breathe," Leo murmured, pressing a kiss to Mark’s knee. Mark exhaled shakily, relaxing incrementally as Leo sank deeper, the tight heat engulfing him completely.
When Leo was fully seated, hips flush against Mark’s ass, they both froze, suspended in the profound intimacy. Mark’s eyes were wide, awestruck. "Christ ... Leo."
"Okay?" Leo asked softly, his voice thick.
Mark nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. Move." His hands gripped Leo's thighs, knuckles pale. Leo withdrew slowly, watching Mark's face tighten, then pushed back in with deliberate force. Mark gasped, head thrashing against the pillow. "Fuck!"
Leo found a rhythm — steady, deep thrusts that made Mark arch off the bed. "Feel good?" Leo rasped, sweat dripping onto Mark's chest.
"Too good," Mark choked out, fingers digging into Leo's hips. His thighs trembled against Leo's sides, every muscle taut. "Harder."
Leo obeyed, driving deeper with each thrust, the slap of skin echoing Mark’s ragged gasps. He watched Mark’s face — the fluttering eyelids, the bitten lip, the sweat-slicked forehead — and felt a surge of possessive awe. My turn to give him this. He angled his hips, grinding on the withdrawal, ensuring each plunge struck true.
Mark arched violently, a cry tearing loose. "There! God, Leo — right fucking there!"
Leo rode the rhythm, relentless. Mark’s cock bounced against his stomach, leaking steadily onto taut abs. Leo reached down, wrapping his hand around Mark’s shaft. The contact made Mark buck wildly. "No — don’t stop fucking me —" Leo pumped in time with his thrusts, the dual assault shattering Mark’s control.
Mark’s back bowed off the bed, heels digging into the mattress. A guttural roar ripped from his throat as he came — thick pulses of sperm splattering his chest and Leo’s fist. The clenching heat inside Mark triggered Leo’s own climax. He drove deep, grinding as his load flooded Mark’s bowels in hot, pulsing waves.
They collapsed, sticky and panting. Leo eased out slowly, wincing at Mark’s sharp inhale. He stretched beside him, fingers tracing the cooling streaks on Mark’s skin. Outside, the lawnmower’s drone faded into silence. The room smelled like salt, sex, and something else — settled dust, maybe. Proof.
Mark rolled onto his side, facing Leo. Sweat plastered dark hair to his temples. "That wall," he rasped, nodding toward the barrier separating his bedroom from Leo's identical room next door. "Tomorrow." His thumb brushed Leo’s lip, rough and familiar. "Sledgehammer first thing."
Leo chuckled, catching Mark’s wrist. "Demolition before coffee? You’re ambitious." He kissed the calloused palm. "What about plumbing? Wiring? We’re not twenty."
"Figure it out as we go." Mark’s gaze was steady, fierce. "Like we just did." He paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. "Your place … my place. It’s bullshit. Always was." His voice dropped, raw. "I want to wake up tangled in our sheets. In our bed. Not hopping porches."
Leo’s chest tightened. He pictured it — shared closets, one cluttered kitchen, Mark’s faded band posters beside Leo’s landscape paintings on a single, uninterrupted wall. "Okay," he breathed. "One home." The words felt solid, anchoring.
Mark grinned, sudden and bright. "Good." He shifted closer, leg hooking over Leo’s hip. "Now, about that shower. We’re disgusting." His hand slid down Leo’s flank, possessive and warm. "Join me?"
Leo arched an eyebrow. "Just a shower?"
Mark’s laugh rumbled low. "Start simple, Leo. We’ve got time." His eyes darkened, promising more. "Forty years wasted. Not wasting another minute pretending." He pressed a kiss to Leo’s shoulder, lingering. "Besides," he murmured against damp skin, "the water pressure’s better in my bathroom."
Leo snorted, shoving him lightly. "Practical bastard." But he was already rising, pulling Mark up with him. As they stumbled toward the bathroom, Leo’s hand found Mark’s, fingers interlacing — not tentative now, but sure. The first step toward knocking down walls had already been taken, skin to skin. The rest was just drywall.
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