Neither fit who Knight is.
Which could only mean he opened Viktor’s skin on purpose.
I swallow hard and step in behind Viktor, turning on the water and letting it heat up before gently pushing him under the hot spray.
For someone so confident, so brazen, I'm starting to wonder if maybe he's not as self-assured as he lets on.
“Too hot?”
He shakes his head. “It’s perfect. You going to wash me? Pamper me?”
I reach past him to the soap dispenser on the wall, pressing the lever to fill my hand with a rich, fragrant body wash. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
For fuck’s sake, he's basking in this, his eyes half-closed and a content smile playing on his lips.
I chuckle as I sink to one knee, the other bent with my foot flat on the shower floor. Reaching out, I take hold of Viktor's right ankle, guiding his foot to rest on my thigh. Starting at his calf, I wash and massage his lean muscles, relishing the feel of his skin under my hands.
Slowly, I work my way up, kneading the defined muscle of his thigh, noting how different his build is from the defensemen and forwards.
Viktor is lean, his musculature evenly distributed rather than bulky. But there's no denying his strength, the coiled power in his long limbs. He's built for speed, for agility. A body honed to perfection for his role on the ice.
And fuck if it isn't the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
When I've thoroughly washed his right leg, I guide his foot back to the floor, then tap his other ankle. “Other leg, Chaos.”
He obeys without hesitation, lifting his left foot to rest on my thigh. I start the process again, washing and massaging from calf to thigh.
My hands linger, my touch shifting from cleansing to caressing. I trace the lines of his muscles, the jut of his hip bone, the curve of his ass.
Viktor's head falls back against the wall, a low moan escaping. “Beckett . . .”
The way he says my name, rough and needy, makes my cock throb. I want to hear him say it again, want him to scream it.
I stand, reaching past him for more soap, then run my hands over his torso, my fingers tracing the ridges of his abs before washing his arms, admiring the way his veins pop under his skin.
“Turn around. Keep your hands on the wall.”
He obeys instantly, looking at me over his shoulder with hooded eyes. I let my gaze roam over the expanse of his back, drinking in the sight of him.
“Knew you liked me,” he purrs, his hips swaying slightly as his gaze drops to my cock. “Bet you can't wait to push that thick monster into my hole.”
“Shut it.” I let my soapy fingers dip between the cheeks of his ass, and he pushes his hips back, a whine reverberating deep in his throat. My cock twitches at the sound.
Leaning forward, I nip at the shell of his ear as my finger circles his tight hole. “So fucking needy. So desperate for my touch.”
But even as I tease him, I take my time, savoring every moment. This isn't just about cleaning him. It's about erasing every trace of that cheap cologne, replacing it with my scent.
When he's fully rinsed, I drop to my knees behind him, my hands spreading him open. I press open-mouthed kisses to the base of his spine, my teeth grazing his skin, my lips kissing every scar.
My tongue traces a hot, wet path to his hole and when I reach it, I dive in, licking a broad stripe over the furled muscle. The taste of him, musky and masculine, explodes on my tongue.
Viktor's knees buckle, and he scrabbles at the slick tiles. “Fuck!”
I growl against his skin, the vibrations making him tremble. My tongue delves deep, fucking into him with rough, demanding strokes.
“Beckett, fuck, yes!” Viktor babbles, his voice high and breathy as he pushes back against me. “Don't stop, fuck, please don't stop . . .”
“That’s it, Chaos. Show me what a dirty boy you are.”
