“Roman,” I say quietly.
His eyes open, then close, and he shifts forward in an attempt to drag me back into his embrace. As much as I want to pull himinto me and fall back asleep, I can’t. He needs out of these damp clothes, and my stomach is grumbling with hunger. I also know from experience that while sleep helps when you’re fighting a virus, Roman needs sustenance. Water. Food.
The past few hours with him have woken a new side of me. A side which shoutscare,nourish,protectevery time I look at him, and that is exactly what I’m going to do. Starting with a shower, a cup of tea and dry clothing.
“Sweet thing,” I try again. “You need to get up for a bit.”
He moans.
I nudge his arm. “Come on.”
“More sleep. More you.”
“I know, but you can’t stay in those clothes. Let me change you and get you something to eat and drink.”
Roman groans, but his eyes open and he pushes up to sit with his back against the headboard.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, looking down at his hands, which are twisting in the sheets.
Crawling on the bed, I settle at his bent knees then tip his face up to look at me.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re sick, and I’m taking care of you.”
“You didn’t sign up for this.”
I shake my head. “No, I didn’t. I didn’t sign up to share this cottage, or to have my bed invaded by a wriggly koala.” He scoffs. “And I certainly didn’t sign up to be schooled on what tea to drink when, but if I was given the choice? I’d sign up for all of it. Every day of the week.”
His brown eyes blink once, then twice, before his lips are tipping up on either side. His cheeks are already flush with fever, but the pink in them deepens.
“You like me.” It’s a statement. One he repeats over and over, while wrapping his arms around my shoulders. I sit back and Roman shuffles into my lap.
“You really like me, my sexy lumberjack.”
“What gives you that idea?” I kiss his left cheek, trailing my lips across his skin to do the same on the right. He laughs before his body goes limp and he rests his head on my shoulder.
“I hate feeling like this,” Roman mutters. My hand dips beneath his shirt, caressing his warm skin.
Depositing him on his feet next to the bed, I keep my eyes locked on his as I wordlessly strip him out of his clothing, then standing, I take his hand and guide him to the bathroom. I take off my cardigan and trousers, and usher him into the shower.
It’s not big enough for the two of us, so I angle myself against the open edge so he can rest against me. Pouring body wash onto a washcloth, I spread soap over his cock, up his chest, and into each armpit. Then I spin him around, his arms wrapping around my neck, and repeat the action over his ass and up his back. My dick is hard – I am only human, but I pay it no attention. All my focus is on taking care of the man in my arms.
“Tip your head back,” I say, reaching behind him with one hand to pick up my shampoo from the wire holder. Roman tips his head back, water cascading over his face and into his hair. While he holds on to me, I lather his hair and scrape my fingers over his scalp, the suds building up and trailing like fluffy clouds down my hands.
“Gare.” Roman’s eyes open to meet mine. “I need to um…” He bites his bottom lip and looks over my shoulder toward the toilet. Obviously, he would need to pee. He’s been asleep for hours and he consumes enough tea in a day for five people. Why I didn’t consider that before pushing him into the shower, I don’t know.
“I need to rinse your hair before you can get out,” I say. “But if you can’t hold it any longer, it’s okay if…” Blood shoots to my cheeks. “If you let go…here.”
Dark pupils swallow the colour of his eyes, and his lips part on a soft exhale. Our gaze locks, and I tip my head in a subtle nod. Roman looks down and I do the same. His cock is half hard, and he releases one hand from my neck to wrap it around his shaft. I suck in a breath as a stream of golden liquid spurts from the tip, pooling on the white tiles of the shower before being washed down the drain. My fingers splay over his lower back, digging into his skin before I press him forward, closing the space between us and causing him to adjust his position so his cock is trapped between us, his piss streaming upward and soaking into my shirt.
Fuck. I did not mean for things to go this way.
Roman lets out a squeak. His head falling to my shoulder, his lips latching onto my neck with a painful grip.
Neither of us says anything as I detach the handheld shower head and rinse his hair, making sure every drop of soap is washed away.
“Ready to get out?” I ask, nudging his body away from mine. He keeps his gaze on his feet, but nods. I wrap him in a towel, and with my hand on his lower back, guide him to sit on the closed toilet lid. He sits, hugging his arms around himself while I strip off, have a quick shower and climb back out.
Back in the room, we dress ourselves, Roman slipping into sweats and an oversized hoodie and me into clean trousers and a blue cardigan.
