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Nate looked at his hand.

Leo covered it with his own. “You couldn’t hurt me with the hammer.”

“I know that too.”

“That isn’t the same as believing it.”

Nate’s throat tightened. He hated that Leo knew him well enough to say it.

Leo drew Nate’s hand slowly down his chest, over his ribs, his stomach. Nothing was broken.

“I’m here,” Leo said.

“I can see that.”

“You’re fussing again.”

“I’m naked and pressed against you. I think this has moved beyond fussing.”

“Not necessarily.”

Nate laughed despite himself. Leo smiled, but his hand stayed over Nate’s, holding it against his skin.

Nate bent and kissed him.

Leo met him halfway. He kissed Nate hard enough to scatter thought, one arm going around his shoulders, leg tightening at his hip. Their bodies slid together, and Nate’s breath caught at the friction.

Leo felt that too. His mouth opened on a sound.

There was nothing spectral about that.

Nate moved against him again, deliberately this time. Leo’s head tipped back. His eyes closed, his face going slack with pleasure in a way that made Nate want more.

He fitted a hand between them. Leo inhaled sharply when Nate touched him, though he had no need for air, and Nate loved that—loved every unnecessary human reaction he could coax out of Leo.

“Okay?” Nate asked.

Leo opened his eyes. “If you stop now, I’ll haunt you till the end of time.”

Nate kissed the corner of his mouth. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Leo reached between them and wrapped a hand around Nate in return.

Thoughts vanished from Nate’s mind.

For a while, there was no basement. No hidden room. No hammer in Nate’s hands and Leo screaming for him to stop. There was only Leo’s forehead pressed to his, Leo’s hand moving with his, Leo warm and hard against him. Their mouths met clumsily whenever one of them remembered kissing was an option, and their bodies kept drifting until Nate had no idea which way the floor was.

It didn’t matter. Leo was holding him.

Nate buried his face against Leo’s neck. He breathed him in. Leo smelled faintly of orange peel, bright and bitter beneath Nate’s nose—a detail he would have to think about later, when thinking was possible.

“Look at me,” Leo murmured.

Nate lifted his head.

Leo’s eyes were open, green and intent upon him, full of want, and affection, and the last of the day’s strain slowly coming undone.

Nate kissed him and let himself come undone with it.