It's amazing what a simple google search of Leckie can bring up.
The dirty raging homosexualist that he is............
Leckie pushes his hand beneath Hoosier’s shirt to spread his hand against his sweat-slick waist. He hitches one up leg in the sand to urge Bill on, faster now. Bill thumbs the head of his prick, reaches his other hand down to Leckie’s balls. He traces his fingers over them; the one traitorous finger slides along the crack of his ass. It’s been so long since Leckie did anything but stare at the ceiling and hope this was all over that he’s already embarrassingly close to coming.
Hoosier licks along Leckie’s neck and jaw, leaving a damp trail in his wake, and Leckie turns his head out of instinct more than anything else. He breathes once, smells the acerbic scent of liquor on Hoosier’s breath, and then he’s pulling Hoosier in, mouths locking in a slick messy kiss.
Leckie bites at Hoosier’s mouth, cranes his neck to chase him when Hoosier pulls back with a huff of laughter. The heat between them is unbearable, sticky and wet, Hoosier’s fist stripping Leckie’s prick and Leckie pushes up, tries to pull Bill closer for better friction, hears his own name murmured against his skin. He bites back a groan when he feels the familiar coil in his stomach and tips his head back in the sand, mouth open, making desperate animal sounds. Hoosier licks a long line at his exposed neck and Leckie jerks hard against him, once, twice, shooting on Hoosier’s hand and stomach. He reaches one hand back in the sand for — something, purchase, anything that will keep him from grabbing so bruisingly onto Hoosier, not that he seems to mind.
Hoosier breathes hard, hips pushing against Leckie’s in short stuttered movements and he drags his hand over Leckie’s belly before leveraging himself up in the sand, hovering for a second. Leckie feels the loss of weight in his chest, nearly bucks up off the beach to keep Hoosier pressed against his body. Hoosiers eyebrows are raised almost like a challenge, but his mouth his soft and slack.
Hoosier’s pants are open, his dick hard against Leckie’s thigh and when Leckie gives him a sharp squeeze he groans, jerking forward against him. “Wipe your fuckin’ hand off, you’re gonna skin my dick,” mutters Hoosier and it’s as if the desperation breaks and Leckie can’t help the laughter that bubbles up; he chokes on it.
“You ever stop bitching, Bill?” Leckie asks, but obliges by passing his palm over his pants’ leg to wipe off excess sand, uses his own slick for grease before taking Hoosier’s prick back in his hand.
Hoosier users his leverage to hike Leckie’s leg up and maneuvers so he thrusts into the hot crease of Leckie’s leg, rubbing against his still-sensitive cock and down to his balls. It’s almost too much, too soon. Fireworks bloom in Leckie’s chest but Hoosier’s eyes are closed, brow furrowed, breathing against Leckie’s lips. He’s almost blurry this close, sweat damp bangs hanging off his forehead to brush Leckie’s cheek.
With a mighty roar Hoosier exploded over Leckie's fat, sweaty arse cheeks.
"Put that in yer pipe and smoke it" Hoosier whispered romantically before f ucking off hastily leaving Leckie stranded alone to finish himself off.(again, the fat 19th Century Terrorist loner)