“I need a shower,” he says. “I feel gross.”
I hold out a hand. “Come on.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You’re gonna help me shower?”
I grin. “No. I’m gonna take a showerwithyou. Different.”
He snorts, then takes my hand.
Under the bathroom lights, his bruising looks violent. I guide him into the shower and step in behind him. Some of his tension seems to bleed out when the hot water hits his back. He groans, leaning his forehead against the tile.
“Okay?”
“Yeah. God, that feels good.”
I lather my hands. “Tell me if I hurt you.”
I run soapy hands over his muscles in slow circles. His skin is slick and warm. He leans back into my touch, and something in my chest flutters. I’m making him feel good. He trusts me not to hurt him. The knowledge goes right to my head.
“Sinc?”
“Yeah?” I knead a knot on his good side.
“You’re quiet.”
“I’m focusing.”
“You’re overthinking.” He tries to turn his head but gives up. “Spit it out. What’s that big brain telling you?”
I pause, my hands on his lower back. The water cascades over us like a warm curtain.
“You don’t seem… freaked-out?” It comes out as a question.
“Do I look freaked-out?”
“No. But until a few days ago, you thought you were straight. Usually, there’s a panic phase.”
He sighs, a heavy sound. “Tanner. Look at me.”
He shuffles around until he’s facing me, his left arm pinned to his torso by the compression bandages. His wet hair is plastered to his forehead, and water droplets cling to his dark eyelashes. He looks broken and beautiful.
“My chest is torn open. My career is on ice. I can’t put on my own socks right now.”
He reaches out with his good hand, resting it on my neck. His thumb brushes my racing pulse.
“I’m not a deep thinker, Sinc. I don’t overanalyze everything like you do. I never questioned my sexuality because I never had a reason to.” He shrugs his good shoulder. “I just didn’t see it. Until you showed up.” He grins. “Apparently, you made it impossible to miss.”
He leans in, resting his forehead against mine.
“I don’t know what label fits me, and I don’t care. I just know I don’t want to stop doing this with you.”
The knot in my chest unspools. “Okay.”
“Good.” He tugs me closer and plants a soft kiss on my mouth. Before it gets too heated, he pulls back. “Now, are you going to wash my hair, or are you gonna stand there and watch me struggle to do it one-handed?” He winks.
I huff a laugh. “Shut up and tilt your head back.”
He closes his eyes, and I work shampoo into his scalp, enjoying the noises of pleasure he makes. It doesn’t take long before we’re both visibly enjoying it, our dicks plumping up.
