Chapter 1: Hidden Desires in the Barracks
Jensen counted the seconds between footsteps. Eleven seconds per patrol rotation. He'd memorized the rhythm over the past three months, the way the night guard dragged his boots like they weighed fifty pounds each, the pause at the door before moving on.
He counted his own breaths, too. Shallow. Determined.
The shower room was a cramped cage of rusted metal stalls and flickering fluorescent light that buzzed like a dying insect. Steam clung to the tiles in thick sheets, and Jensen let it wrap around him as he slipped through the door, his bare feet silent against the wet floor.
Leonid stood under the last stall, water cascading down his back in rivulets that traced the ridges of his spine, the dip of his lower back, the curve of his muscular shoulders. He hadn't turned around when Jensen entered. Of course he hadn't. Leonid always knew when Jensen was near—could probably feel him coming like a shift in the air pressure, like a storm rolling in.
"You shouldn't be here," Leonid said, his voice low and rough, cutting through the hiss of water.
Jensen stepped closer, his heart slamming against his ribs. "I had to see you."
"You always have to see me." Leonid finally turned, water sluicing over his chest, catching in the dark hair that trailed down his stomach. His eyes were hard, his jaw tighter. "You're going to get us both in real trouble, and for what? A quick fuck in the showers?"
"For you," Jensen breathed, moving into Leonid's space. His hand reached out, fingers brushing Leonid's wet skin, tracing the prominent veins along his forearm. "I'd take any punishment for you."
Leonid's hand shot out and gripped Jensen's throat, pressing him against the cold tile wall. The contrast of the frigid tile against his heated skin made Jensen gasp, and the sound was swallowed by the drumming steam.
"You're too loud," Leonid growled, his fingers tightening just enough to constrict. "Too needy. Always crawling after me like a bitch in heat."
"Yes," Jensen gasped, his dark brown feline eyes hooded with desire. He pressed his body closer, letting Leonid feel the hard length of him. "That's what I am. Your bitch. Your needy little bitch who can't survive without you."
Leonid's jaw worked, his dark brown eyes burning with something between disgust and hunger. His grip on Jensen's throat loosened, only slightly. "You're pathetic."
"I know." Jensen's voice cracked, and he hated how much he meant it. How much he craved hearing it. "I know I am. But I don't care. I don't care about anything except you."
For a long moment, Leonid just stared at him, his expression unreadable. Jensen thought he might push him away, tell him to go back to his bunk before someone caught them. But instead, Leonid's hand moved from his throat to the back of his head, yanking him forward so their faces were inches apart. Leonid's breath was hot against his lips.
"Your parents would kill you if they could see you now," Leonid whispered. "The perfect son. Student council president. Top of his class." He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "On his knees for a man who can't even stand him most days."
"On my knees for the only man I've ever loved," Jensen corrected, his hands coming up to grip Leonid's waist, feeling the taut heat of his skin beneath his palms. "Since preschool. I've loved you since before I understood what love was."
"Love." Leonid spat the word like it tasted like ash. "This isn't love. This is whatever sickness is inside us."
"Call it whatever you want." Jensen's nails dug into Leonid's hips. "Just don't call it nothing. Don't tell me I mean nothing to you."
When Leonid shoved Jensen down to his knees, Jensen hit the wet tile hard enough to bruise. Pain radiated up his kneecaps, and he welcomed it like a sacrament. Leonid stood above him, water still cascading down his body, dripping from his dark curls like some kind of profane baptism. Jensen looked up at him with reverence glowing in his eyes.
"You want to prove it?" Leonid's voice was thick with contempt and want, tangled up so tight they'd become impossible to separate. "Prove your devotion."
Crawling forward on his knees, Jensen pressed his lips to Leonid's stomach, feeling the muscles contract beneath his mouth. He trailed his hands up Leonid's thighs, mapping each ridge of sinew, each trace of the treasure trail that led down to the heavy weight that was already thickening with interest.
"Look at me," Jensen whispered against Leonid's skin, his own voice barely controlled. "Look at what you do to me."
Leonid cursed under his breath, his hand tangling in Jensen's silky black hair, yanking his head back. "That's not how this works. You don't give orders. You don't make demands. You take what I give you, and you thank me for it."
Jensen's lips parted, his eyes glazed with arousal. "Yes. Anything. I'll thank you for anything."
He saw Leonid's vulnerability there, buried beneath the cruelty. Saw the way his breath hitched when Jensen's tongue traced the length of him, the way his hand shook slightly as he guided Jensen's mouth toward the only physical heat that made sense anymore. Leonid could deny it all he wanted, but his body knew the truth: they were both broken the same way.
The shower hissed around them as Jensen took Leonid wholly in his mouth, the steam wrapping around their bodies like a secret. Leonid's soft groan was swallowed by the rhythm of the water. He tasted of salt and heat and every thing Jensen had ever wanted. Above him, Leonid's head fell back, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat. His chest rose and fell with increasingly ragged breaths, and his fingers tightened in Jensen's hair with each passing second.
"Fuck, Jensen." Leonid's voice was a wreck, rough and broken. "Always so desperate." He bucked his hips forward once, a sharp, punishing thrust. "You were made for this. For me."
Jensen made an obscene sound of agreement around him and looked up through his lashes. His eyes were wet, and he didn't try to hide it.
The fluorescent bulb above them flickered once, twice, threatening to plunge them into darkness. Jensen kept his mouth where it was and let the world narrow to just this. Just them. Leonid's taste flooding his senses. The cold tile against his knees grounding him. The danger of discovery sharpening every nerve ending like a blade.
"I'm going to finish," Leonid warned, his voice catching. He tried to pull Jensen back, but Jensen gripped his hips more firmly. He locked eyes with Leonid until Leonid understood, until Leonid stopped resisting and let go with his whole body, a rough sound tearing from his throat that Jensen drank down like a starving man offered salvation.
For a moment, only the water broke the silence.
Leonid sagged against the tile, his chest heaving. Slowly, Jensen pulled away, kissing his way up Leonid's body, tasting himself mixed with water and sweat. But when he tried to reach for Leonid's lips, Leonid's hand stopped him, palm pressed flat against Jensen's chest.
"Go back to your bunk." The roughness was still raw in Leo's voice.
"Leonid—"
"Now." A flicker of something that might have been softness crossed Leonid's face and vanished. "Before someone catches us."
Jensen rose on trembling legs, his body already aching where Leonid had gripped him, where he'd be bruised tomorrow. He knew how to read Leonid by now. He knew this was the closest thing to tenderness he would ever receive, a small flicker of care held behind iron bars.
He paused at the door, looking back one last time. Leonid stood under the water again, letting it rinse away evidence, steam curling around his body. He didn't look back.
But Jensen saw the way his shoulders tightened before he disappeared into the steam. Saw the way his hands gripped his own arms like he could squeeze the wanting out of himself.
"That's enough," Jensen whispered to himself, stepping out into the cold, dark hallway. His lips still tingled with the memory of Leonid, his knees still screamed with the ache of the tile, and his heart—his reckless, hopeless heart—still beat only for the man he'd left behind in the steam.