Chapter 4: The Shower and the Truth
The rain had followed him across town like a debt collector, patient and relentless.
Ender stood outside Leo's apartment door, water dripping from the ends of his curls onto the threadbare hallway carpet. He'd walked the last six blocks because the bus had been late, and now his hoodie was plastered to his skin, his jeans heavy and cold. He hadn't texted. Hadn't called. He didn't know what he was doing here, only that his own apartment had felt like a cage all week, and every time he closed his eyes he saw Leo's face, Leo's hands, Leo's mouth forming words that Ender replayed until they lost all meaning.
The texts had been constant. Stupid stuff. Memes and music links and shit about their friends. Leo asking if he'd eaten. Ender asking if Leo had slept. Both of them dancing around the thing that sat between them like a third person in the room, breathing and waiting.
A week of that. A week of wanting to say something real and choking on it.
Ender raised his hand and knocked before he could talk himself out of it.
The door opened in seconds.
Leo stood there in sweatpants and nothing else, hair damp like he'd just gotten out of the shower. His eyes went wide, then dark, then something else—something Ender couldn't name.
"You're soaked," Leo said.
"Yeah."
"How long were you—never mind." Leo grabbed his wrist and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind them with a soft click. The apartment was warm, almost suffocating, and it smelled like Leo—that stupid expensive cologne mixed with clean skin and something else, something Ender had come to associate with the way Leo's neck tasted when he kissed it.
"Ender." Leo's voice was low. "What are you doing here?"
Ender opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
The truth was too big. The truth was I can't stop thinking about you and it's driving me insane. The truth was I woke up three times last night from dreams where you were touching me and I couldn't breathe. The truth was I've been walking around all week feeling like my skin doesn't fit right anymore.
"I don't know," he said finally.
Leo looked at him for a long moment. Water dripped from Ender's hair onto the floor, a small puddle forming between his feet. Then Leo moved.
His hands found the hem of Ender's hoodie and tugged it up. Ender raised his arms automatically, letting it be pulled over his head and tossed aside. Leo's fingers moved to his jeans, unbuttoning them with a practiced ease that made Ender's stomach flip.
"Leo—"
"Shower," Leo said. "You're freezing."
He wasn't wrong. Ender's fingers were numb, his lips probably blue. He let Leo peel the wet jeans down his legs, let Leo steer him through the cramped apartment to the bathroom. The tiles were cold under his bare feet. The mirror was fogged from Leo's earlier shower, obscuring everything.
Leo reached past him and turned on the water. Steam billowed, filling the tiny room, and the air grew thick and opaque. Ender stood there in his boxers, shivering, watching Leo strip off his own sweatpants.
"Get in," Leo said.
Ender stepped under the spray.
The water was scalding. It hit his cold skin like a shock, making him gasp, but after a moment the heat seeped into his bones and he stopped shaking. He closed his eyes, let the water run over his face, through his hair.
Then Leo was behind him.
His hands landed on Ender's hips, pulling him back against his chest. The contact was immediate and overwhelming—bare skin, warm and wet, Leo's heartbeat against his shoulder blade.
"I can't do this anymore," Leo murmured against his ear.
Ender's breath caught. "Do what?"
"Pretend." Leo's lips brushed the curve of his neck. "Pretend the dare was casual. Pretend I didn't know exactly what I was doing when I said it."
Ender's hands pressed flat against the cold tile, steadying himself. His heart was a drum in his chest. "What do you mean?"
Leo's grip tightened. "I've been watching you for months, Ender. Before the party. Before any of it. The way you bite your lip when you're nervous. The way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention." His voice dropped, rough and honest. "I was waiting for an excuse. The dare was just—it was just something I could hide behind."
The confession hit Ender like a wave, pulling him under.
"Say something," Leo said. His voice was different now. Vulnerable.
Ender turned in his arms.
The shower spray hit his back, but he barely felt it. He looked at Leo—really looked at him—at the water running down his face, beading on his lashes, at the uncertainty flickering behind his eyes.
"I've been fantasizing about you," Ender said. The words came out raw, unpolished. "For weeks. I think about you taking me apart. Leaving me so wrecked I can't walk straight."
Leo's jaw tightened.
"I want you to ruin me," Ender continued. "I want to feel it for days. I want—"
Leo dropped to his knees.
Ender's words died in his throat.
The bathroom floor was hard and wet, but Leo didn't seem to care. He looked up at Ender through the steam, water streaming down his face, and there was something in his expression that made Ender's chest ache—devotion, hunger, reverence.
Then Leo took him in his mouth.
Ender's head fell back against the tile. A sound escaped him, something between a gasp and a moan, swallowed by the hiss of the shower. Leo's mouth was hot and wet, his tongue working in slow, deliberate strokes. He took his time. He savored it.
"Fuck," Ender breathed.
Leo hummed around him, the vibration sending sparks up his spine. His hands gripped Ender's thighs, steadying him, holding him in place. He pulled back just enough to breathe, then took him deeper, until Ender's cock hit the back of his throat.
Ender's hands fisted in Leo's wet hair, not pushing, just holding on.
"Leo—I'm close—"
Leo pulled off with a wet sound. He looked up, lips swollen, eyes black.
"Not yet," he said.
He stood, and the loss of contact made Ender whimper. But then Leo's hands were on him again, turning him around, pressing him face-first against the cold tile. The contrast made him gasp—hot water on his back, cold porcelain on his cheek, Leo's body a wall of heat behind him.
"Bend over," Leo said.
Ender obeyed.
The edge of the tub was unforgiving against his hips, but he didn't care. He heard Leo fumble for something—a bottle, the cap popping open—and then fingers, slick and insistent, pressing against him.
"This okay?" Leo asked.
"Yes. God, yes. Just—"
Leo pushed inside.
The stretch was familiar now, but no less intense. Ender's breath left him in a rush, his nails scrabbling against the tile. Leo didn't move at first, just held himself there, letting Ender adjust.
"You feel," Leo said, voice strained, "so fucking good. Every time."
"Move."
Leo moved.
The rhythm was punishing from the start. Leo fucked into him with a force that rattled the shower curtain, sent water splashing against the walls. The sound was obscene—wet skin on skin, Ender's broken moans, Leo's low grunts.
The steam wrapped around them like a blanket. Ender's vision blurred. He could feel everything—Leo's hands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise, Leo's cock hitting something deep inside him that made his legs shake, Leo's breath hot against the back of his neck.
"Harder," Ender begged.
Leo gave him harder.
The tile was slick with condensation, so Ender could barely keep his grip. His forehead pressed against the cold surface, his eyes squeezed shut. Every thrust sent him closer to the edge, and he was so hard it hurt, leaking against his stomach, untouched.
"Leo—I'm gonna—"
"Come," Leo said. "Come for me, Ender. Let me feel it."
The permission was all he needed.
Ender came with a cry that echoed off the wet walls, his body clenching hard around Leo's cock. The orgasm ripped through him, leaving him shaking, gasping, his release spilling hot against the porcelain edge of the tub.
Leo followed seconds later.
His hips stuttered, his grip tightened, and he buried himself deep with a sound that was almost a growl. Ender felt it—the pulse, the heat, the way Leo's whole body tensed against him.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The shower kept running, steam curling around them, water washing away the evidence. Ender's legs were trembling. He wasn't sure he could stand on his own.
Leo pulled out slowly, carefully, and Ender winced at the loss. Then Leo's arms were around him, turning him, pulling him into his chest.
"I've got you," Leo said. "I've got you."
He turned off the water. Grabbed a towel. Wrapped Ender in it like he was something precious, something fragile. He dried him off with gentle hands, patting his hair, his shoulders, his trembling legs.
Then he lifted him.
Ender made a weak sound of protest. "I can walk—"
"No, you can't." Leo carried him through the apartment, wet footprints trailing behind them. "And I don't want you to."
He laid Ender on his bed—the same bed, the same rumpled sheets from a week ago. The familiarity made Ender's chest tight. Leo climbed in beside him, pulled the covers up, wrapped his arms around him like he was afraid Ender might disappear.
"I'm not letting you go," Leo whispered against his hair.
Ender closed his eyes.
His body was sore. His legs still felt weak. There would be bruises on his hips tomorrow, marks he'd press in private and remember.
"I don't want you to," he said.
Leo's arms tightened.
Outside, the rain kept falling, soft and steady against the window. The apartment was warm and dark, and Ender let himself sink into it—into Leo's warmth, Leo's breath, the slow steady beat of Leo's heart against his ear.
He had no idea what came next. What this meant. How they'd face their friends, the world, the messy reality of whatever they were becoming.
But here, in Leo's bed, with Leo's arms around him, he couldn't bring himself to care.
Tomorrow could wait.
Right now, this was enough.