Pop 21

Ashton stepped into Leo’s condo and took it in with quiet curiosity.

The space was small, barely furnished, but tidy—minimalist in the way of

someone who didn’t spend much time at home.

“Sorry,” Leo said quickly, motioning toward the low floor

bed against the wall. “I don’t have a couch.”

Ashton smiled, shaking his head. “It’s fine.”

Leo hesitated, then brightened. “What can I get you? Hot chocolate?”

“That’s perfect. I can’t take coffee this late,” Ashton said warmly.

Leo’s eyes lit up mischievously. “I’ve got rum. Cuba Libre?”

Ashton chuckled. “Oh no, nothing libre for me. Just the chocolate.”

“Hot chocolate it is.” Leo grinned before slipping into the tiny kitchen.

While he prepared the drinks, Ashton let his gaze wander.

The faint hum of the fridge, the patter of rain still clinging to the window,

the smell of cocoa powder warming in milk—it all felt disarmingly domestic.

When Leo returned, he carried not only two steaming mugs but also a folded towel and a pair of pajamas.

“Your clothes are still damp from the rain. Here—change in the bathroom.”

Ashton accepted them with a smile. He peeled off his wet clothes in the bathroom,

drying himself quickly before slipping into Leo’s pajamas, which hung a little loose but were soft and warm.

And with a faint smell of detergent and something distinctly Leo—citrus cologne, maybe.

When Ashton stepped back into the room, Leo was waiting, two steaming mugs on the floor.

Their hands brushed briefly as Leo passed him a cup, warmth radiating from porcelain to skin.

They sat quietly, sipping. The rain outside softened into a hush.

Ashton could feel the weight of words unspoken pressing between them,

heavy, fragile.

When Leo finally set his cup down, Ashton already knew something was coming.

The steam fogged Ashton’s glasses for a moment; he wiped them with his sleeve,

stealing a glance at Leo, whose profile glowed gently under the soft overhead light.

Finally, Leo spoke. His voice was quiet, careful. “Ashton… can I ask you something?”

Ashton looked up. “Of course.”

Leo’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Would it be alright if… I kissed you?”

Ashton froze, the cup trembling slightly in his hand before he set it down on the floor.

“You… want to kiss me? But why? I’m old.”

Leo’s gaze locked on his, steady and unwavering—the kind of gaze that seemed to melt away defenses.

“Because I like you.”

Ashton exhaled a shaky laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh. “You like me? But—”

“But what?” Leo interrupted gently, reaching out to take Ashton’s hand.

His palm was warm, reassuring. “Because you’re old? Ashton, I don’t care. Do you? Because I’m young?”

Ashton closed his eyes for a moment, his chest heavy.

“I care because… I don’t want to trap you in something you can’t get yourself out of.”

Leo searched his face, his dark eyes shimmering with a mix of hope, fear, and determination.

“You’re not trapping me. I’m here because I want to be. Because I’m… drawn to you.”

Ashton looked into Leo’s eyes and saw everything: longing, courage, anticipation—

and something else that scared him because it was so real.

“Ok…” Ashton whispered.

Leo’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “Ok.”

He leaned in slowly, eyes never leaving Ashton’s.

Their foreheads brushed first, then their noses.

Finally, Leo pressed his lips against Ashton’s, gentle, tentative.

Ashton responded hesitantly at first, then with growing certainty,

until the kiss deepened, heat flooding through both of them.

their hands searching instinctively, fingertips brushing skin as if testing the edges of a dream.

Ashton felt Leo tug gently at his shirt hem, hesitant but bold, and he let it slip away.

Fabric fell carelessly to the floor, a soft punctuation to the heat growing between them

Shirts were tugged off and tossed aside, the air thick with their breath.

Leo slipped out of his damp pants, left in just his underwear,

and leaned back into Ashton, kissing him with a fierceness that startled and thrilled.

He slid the last barrier away, his underwear dropping to the floor.

His body trembled, but his eyes were clear. He waited, expectant, for Ashton to follow.

But Ashton hesitated. His hands fell to his sides, his head lowering until his gaze hit the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice cracking. “I… I can’t do this.”

The silence stretched like a fragile thread.

Leo sat beside him, their shoulders brushing.

He didn’t push, didn’t pry. His voice came soft, vulnerable.

“Do you like me, Ashton? Or is it just me… liking you?”

Ashton exhaled, the weight of his heart pressing down.

Slowly, he let his head rest against Leo’s shoulder.

Leo didn’t said anything, he understood.

He wrapped an arm around Ashton’s shoulders, pulling him gently against his chest.

For a long moment, they just sat there, listening to each other breathe.

‘It’s okay,’ Leo whispered at last, his lips brushing Ashton’s hair.

‘We don’t have to rush. I just… wanted you to know how I feel.’

Ashton closed his eyes, letting the warmth of Leo’s embrace

settle into his bones.

For the first time in years, he didn’t feel old. He just felt… seen