Chapter 5: Underwater Games
The waterfall announced itself before they saw it—a low, insistent thunder that vibrated through the soles of Jensen's hiking boots and settled somewhere deep in his chest. The trail had been climbing steadily for the past hour, winding through increasingly dense undergrowth, the pines giving way to moss-draped oaks and ancient ferns that brushed against their legs like curious fingers.
Minho walked beside him, sweating through his expensive athleisure wear, chattering about the geological formation of the Korean peninsula. Jensen nodded at appropriate intervals, his mind elsewhere—specifically, on the tall figure moving through the underbrush ahead of them, shirt clinging to his back with perspiration.
Leonid hadn't looked at him once since breakfast.
They'd woken tangled together in the pre-dawn darkness, Leonid's body warm against his, the sleeping bag wrapped around them like a cocoon. Jensen had watched the faint light filter through the tent fabric, tracing the curve of Leonid's spine with his fingertips, memorizing the texture of his skin. They hadn't spoken. They rarely did in those moments—words felt insufficient, clumsy tools for the enormity of what passed between them in the dark.
But then morning had come, and with it the masks. Jensen had emerged from his tent alone, stretching and yawning as if he'd slept soundly. Leonid had appeared moments later from his own tent, hair damp from a quick rinse in the creek, greeting Jensen with the same casual warmth he offered everyone else.
The performance was flawless. It always was.
"There it is!" someone shouted ahead, and the group surged forward with renewed energy.
The forest opened abruptly, revealing a scene that stole the breath from Jensen's lungs.
The waterfall cascaded from a cliff face perhaps sixty feet high, plunging into a pool of water so clear it seemed to glow from within. The sunlight filtered through the canopy above, catching the mist and scattering it into a thousand tiny rainbows. Moss clung to the rocks in patches of vivid green, slick and treacherous-looking. The pool itself was ringed by boulders worn smooth by centuries of water, their surfaces gleaming like polished marble.
It was beautiful. It was also, Jensen noted with a private smile, remarkably isolated. The nearest trailhead was miles behind them, and the roar of the cascade would drown out any sound short of a gunshot.
"Everyone in!" Minho was already stripping off his shirt, revealing a torso that had clearly been curated through hours of gym selfies. "Last one in buys drinks at the next council meeting!"
The others needed no further encouragement. Clothes flew in every direction, revealing an assortment of bodies in various states of athletic conditioning. Jensen watched with detached amusement as his classmates dove into the pool, shrieking at the cold, their laughter echoing off the canyon walls.
He took his time—unbuttoning his shirt slowly, folding it with care, placing it on a dry rock. He was in no hurry to join the chaos. Let them tire themselves out first.
"Not swimming?"
Jensen turned to find Leonid standing a few feet away, still fully clothed. His dark curls were damp at the temples, his pale skin flushed from the hike. He was looking at Jensen with that particular expression—the one that seemed to see through all the layers of performance and pretension, right down to the raw, beating heart beneath.
"Eventually," Jensen said, matching Leonid's casual tone. "You?"
Leonid shrugged, his gaze sweeping across the pool where their classmates was splashing and shrieking. "Maybe. Water's probably freezing."
"Chicken?"
A ghost of a smile flickered across Leonid's lips. "Something like that."
They stood there for a moment, the space between them charged with unspoken meaning. Jensen's fingers itched with the urge to reach out, to grab Leonid by the collar of his shirt and pull him close. To claim him in front of everyone, consequences be damned.
Instead, he turned away, beginning the careful descent down the rocks toward the water's edge.
The pool was colder than he'd expected—a sharp, breathtaking shock that stole the air from his lungs. He submerged himself fully, letting the chill numb his skin, then surfaced with a gasp, shaking water from his hair.
"Told you," Leonid called from the shore.
Jensen flipped him off, earning a laugh that made his heart stutter in his chest. God, he was pathetic. He'd known Leonid since preschool, had kissed those lips a thousand times, had mapped every inch of that body with his tongue and his teeth. And still, a single laugh from Leonid's throat could reduce him to a lovesick teenager.
"It's not that bad!" Minho paddled over, his face flushed with exertion. "C'mon, Manoban, get in! Don't be a wimp."
Leonid's eyes found Jensen's. Something passed between them—a silent question, a shared understanding. Then Leonid shrugged and began unbuttoning his shirt.
Jensen watched, helpless, as inch after inch of pale skin was revealed. Leonid's chest was lean but muscular, with a light dusting of dark hair that trailed down his stomach and disappeared beneath his waistband. His arms were corded with defined muscle, the veins prominent along his forearms, his skin almost luminous in the golden afternoon light.
He was beautiful. Every time Jensen saw him, it was like seeing him for the first time.
Leonid toed off his boots, shucked his jeans, and stood at the water's edge in nothing but his boxers, looking like some pagan god carved from marble and shadow. The other students had gone quiet, watching. One of the girls—the one with the foghorn voice—openly gaped. Jensen felt a surge of possessive rage so intense it nearly choked him.
Mine. He's mine, you worthless cows. Look but don't touch, or I'll cut your hands off.
"My man!" Minho cheered, splashing toward the shore. "Get in here!"
Leonid grinned—that easy, public grin that Jensen knew was just another mask—and dove in, cutting through the water with practiced grace. He surfaced near Minho, shaking his head like a dog, sending droplets flying.
Jensen forced himself to move, to swim, to participate in the laughter and splashing that surrounded him. It was a special kind of torture, being this close to Leonid and unable to touch him. Every accidental brush of skin sent lightning through his nerves. Every time Leonid laughed, Jensen felt the sound reverberate in his own chest.
"This is amazing!" one of the girls squealed, floating on her back. "We should do this every semester!"
"Council trip to Jeju next spring?" someone suggested.
"I'm in if Jensen's paying."
Everyone laughed. Jensen smiled, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. He was too focused on Leonid, who had surfaced near a cluster of boulders at the edge of the pool, where the water was deeper and the shadows cast by the canyon walls provided some semblance of privacy.
Jensen swam toward him, keeping his movements casual, unhurried. When he reached the boulders, he found Leonid treading water in the shadows, his dark eyes tracking Jensen's approach.
"Enjoying yourself?" Jensen asked, pitching his voice low.
"You know I am." Leonid's gaze flickered past Jensen, checking that the others weren't watching. They were occupied with some kind of splash war, their attention firmly diverted. "You?"
Jensen moved closer, until their bodies were nearly touching beneath the surface. The water was cold, but the heat radiating from Leonid was enough to chase it away.
"Can't complain," Jensen said, his voice a mere whisper now. "Though I can think of a few ways to improve the experience."
Leonid's lips twitched. "Is that so?"
Jensen's hand found Leonid's thigh beneath the water, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin just above his knee. Leonid's breath hitched imperceptibly.
"Shh," Jensen murmured, his fingers beginning a slow, deliberate journey upward. "Just keep smiling."
And Leonid did—that perfect, public smile that showed his teeth and crinkled his eyes. Meanwhile, beneath the surface, Jensen's hand crept higher, tracing the inside of Leonid's thigh, feeling the muscle tremble beneath his touch.
"You're insane," Leonid breathed.
"You knew that when you fell in love with me."
Jensen's fingers reached the junction of Leonid's thigh, brushing against the damp fabric of his boxers. Leonid's jaw tightened, his smile becoming strained.
"We're in public," Leonid managed.
"I know." Jensen's fingers traced the outline of Leonid's cock through the fabric, feeling it stir beneath his touch. "That's what makes it fun."
A splash nearby made them spring apart, the moment shattered. Minho surfaced a few feet away, sputtering and laughing, his eyes bright with excitement.
"Jensen! Leonid! We need you for the game!"
"What game?" Jensen asked, his voice admirably steady despite the fire burning in his veins.
"Chicken fight!" Minho paddled closer, gesturing animatedly. "Two teams, one person on each other's shoulders, try to knock the other pair down. Winner gets bragging rights for the rest of the trip!"
Jensen glanced at Leonid, who was carefully avoiding his gaze, his face flushed with more than just the cold.
"Sounds fun," Jensen said smoothly. "Who's pairing with who?"
"Me and Ji-woo against you two!" Minho said, pointing at Jensen and then Leonid. "You're both athletic, so it'll be a fair fight."
Jensen's heart kicked against his ribs. He and Leonid. In physical contact. In front of everyone.
"We'll crush you," Jensen said, letting his competitive nature show. "Leonid, you good?"
Leonid finally met his eyes. In them, Jensen saw a mirror of his own hunger, carefully banked behind a mask of casual indifference. "I'm good."
The next few minutes were a blur of positioning and laughter. Minho climbed onto Ji-woo's shoulders with practiced ease, his legs wrapping around the smaller boy's neck. Jensen moved to do the same with Leonid, but Leonid stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"I'll go on bottom," Leonid said, his voice pitched for Jensen's ears only. "You're lighter."
Before Jensen could protest, Leonid was sinking into the water, positioning himself beneath Jensen's hips. Jensen swung his leg over, settling onto Leonid's shoulders, feeling the strong muscles flex beneath him.
The position was... provocative, to say the least. Jensen's thighs gripped Leonid's head, his groin pressed against the back of Leonid's skull. The thin fabric of their swimwear did nothing to disguise the heat between them.
"Ready?" Minho called from across the pool.
Jensen wrapped his legs tighter around Leonid's neck, his hands finding purchase in Leonid's damp curls. He could feel Leonid's breath against his inner thigh, warm and steady despite the madness of their situation. He looked down and saw Leonid's eyes gazing up at him, dark and full of meaning, and his cock twitched in his shorts.
That easy, strong grip moved to his ass, settling high and proprietary on his thighs. Jensen's toes curled in the water. When he shifted, searching for balance, his hardness pressed against the curve of Leonid's dome.
He felt Leonid's hands steady him, the contact like a brand.
Minho's grin was blinding. He and Ji-woo prowled in the water like a two-headed predator, their focus laser-sharp.
"We're going down, like you need to know," Jensen boasted.
"Big words, President. Try not to fall too hard."
Leonid moved, surging forward, and Jensen gasped as he tightened his grip to keep from toppling backward. The water churned around them as they closed the distance, Minho's laughter echoing off the canyon walls.
It was a game of balance and brute force. Minho lunged, reaching out to grab Jensen's arm, but Jensen twisted away, relying on Leonid's steady strength to keep him upright.
"You've got this!" Minho shrieked as Jensen's grip found his arm, pulling hard. "Ji-woo, move!"
They grappled in the water, the complex choreography impossible to predict. Jensen laughed and yelled, participating in the game with apparent enthusiasm, but his mind was elsewhere—on the warmth of Leonid's head between his thighs, on the strength of the hands gripping his legs, on the desire that pulsed through his veins with every beat of his heart.
"Chicken!" Minho wobbled dangerously, and in desperation he lunged forward, his full weight colliding with Jensen's side. He was shoved off balance by the sudden impact.
Leonid stumbled, struggling to keep them upright as gravity insisted on making itself known. Jensen felt himself slipping, felt Leonid's hands tighten on his thighs in a desperate attempt to hold him steady.
And then it happened.
In the scramble, Jensen's swim trunks caught on something, the thin fabric shifting aside just enough that his cock—half-hard and swollen with desire—slipped free, pressing directly against the smooth, buzzed skin of Leonid's head.
Leonid went still beneath him.
Jensen's breath caught in his throat, his entire body flushing with heat. He looked down at the top of Leonid's head, at the dark curls now pressed against his bare flesh, and felt a wave of arousal so intense it nearly made him dizzy.
"Jensen!" Minho crowed, having managed to right himself. "You're going down!"
He lunged again, but Jensen barely registered it. His mind had narrowed to a single point of focus—the exquisite pressure of Leonid's skull against his cock, the knowledge that everyone around them was completely oblivious to the obscenity happening beneath the water's surface.
Leonid shifted, his hand moving to Jensen's hip for balance. His fingers brushed against Jensen's exposed flesh, and Jensen bit his lip to keep from moaning.
"Get him, Jensen!" someone shouted.
But Jensen was beyond games now. He was drowning in sensation, drowning in Leonid, drowning in the sheer perversity of what they were doing—or almost doing—right under the noses of everyone who thought they knew them. He caught Leonid by the head and pressed him flush against his body, so slowly and casually it almost looked like a necessary adjustment of balance, grinding half an inch, enough for his leaking slit to paint a wet stripe against Leonid's temple.
"Fight, Jensen!" Minho yelled, but the voice sounded far away, muffled, as if heard through a wall of water.
Leonid's thumb traced along the delicate skin of Jensen's thigh, promising retribution.
The game ended when Ji-woo stumbled on a slick rock, sending both him and Minho toppling into the water in a tangle of limbs, screaming and laughing. Jensen and Leonid emerged victorious. The rest of the group burst into cheers, some splashing, some drifting over to commiserate with the fallen team. For a moment, Jensen stood tall on Leonid's shoulders, his arms raised in triumph, his chest heaving.
But beneath the surface, where no one could see, his cock remained bare and aching, pressed against his lover's skull. Nobody witnessed the way Jensen swayed on Leonid's shoulders, his eyes half-closed, a flush creeping down his chest.
Leonid's hands were spread wide across his thighs, and one thumb shifted, sliding up, tracing the crease where thigh met groin.
Another careful rotation of Leonid's thumb, and the pad of it dragged along the base of Jensen's cock through the tangle of his shorts, pressing.
"We won," Jensen heard himself say, his voice somewhere far away.
Beneath him, Leonid's thumb continued its slow, deliberate assault.
"Get down before you fall," Leonid said, his voice steady, meant for the group's ears. "I'm tired of being your throne."
Everyone laughed. Jensen slid off Leonid's shoulders, forcing himself to keep his movements natural, unremarkable, as he slipped back into the water. He adjusted his shorts beneath the surface, skin already blazing with shame and arousal, aware of nothing but the ghost of Leonid's touch.
Minho surfaced beside him, sputtering and grinning. "Good game, man. You two are unstoppable together."
Jensen shook water from his hair, forcing a grin onto his face. The cold water had done nothing to quiet the singular, magnetic pull. He felt like a compass needle with no true north, swinging wildly, hopelessly, toward the man who was even now being congratulated by their classmates.
But the storm in Jensen's chest was far from over. He let his gaze drift toward Leonid, sitting on a rock at the water's edge, water droplets clinging to his skin like jewels. And when Leonid's eyes found his across the pool, Jensen saw the promise there, unmistakable and heavy.
The forest watched, indifferent, as the sun traced its slow arc toward the horizon.