Instead of pulling away, he leans forward to rest his head on my shoulder. His arms wrap around me, and he relaxes, trusting me to hold him upright.
My hands settle, one at the small of his back, the other cradling the nape of his neck where no injurieslie. His breath warms my skin in uneven bursts, body trembling with the effort of remaining standing.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur.
Gabriel’s answer comes as a slight tightening of his arms around me. His body sags further, surrendering to exhaustion and trust.
I lean into the contact, my cheek resting on Gabriel’s wet hair. When I set out earlier today, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever hold him like this again, and now I can’t imagine ever letting him go.
Gabriel’s body shifts against mine, and the unmistakable hardness of his arousal brushes my thigh. Despite exhaustion and pain, his cock hardens between us, radiating a heat I can feel even under the shower’s scalding spray. His head turns, lips finding my neck in a feather-light touch that sends electricity racing down my spine.
“I want you so bad,” he murmurs, lips caressing my skin. “But I’m not sure I have the strength for it.”
My pulse quickens, blood rushing south as my own dick stirs in response, and my hand slides lower on his back. “Your ribs are bruised, and your arm is fractured.”
“I’m aware.” His lips curve against my throat. “Ignore me. It’s the adrenaline crash.”
But I can’t ignore the way his breath catches whenmy fingers trace the unmarked skin at his hip, or how his body seeks to be closer despite the pain it must cause. Instead of pulling away, I reach between our bodies, wrapping my hand around both our lengths.
Gabriel’s breath hitches, a soft moan escaping as I pump us together in a slow, steady rhythm. Water cascades over our shoulders, providing a slick glide that eases the friction. His uninjured arm wraps around me, fingers splaying across my lower back to draw me closer.
“Feels good,” he moans, his lips traveling up to my jaw in a series of open-mouthed kisses.
When his teeth graze my pulse point, my grip tightens, and I twist my wrist in a way that pulls a groan from deep in his chest.
Our bodies align despite the awkward positioning, his injured arm trapped between us. My thumb circles the heads of our cocks with each upstroke, spreading the precum that mixes with the water running down our bodies.
“Saint,” he breathes, hips moving in shallow thrusts that match my rhythm.
His mouth finds mine, tongue sliding between my lips to taste me, to claim me in a way more intimate than the hand between us.
I kiss him back, pouring everything I can’t sayinto the connection of our mouths. My hand never stops its movement, picking up speed as heat builds in my hips. Gabriel moans into the kiss, the sound vibrating through my chest and settling in my bones.
His body trembles, muscles tensing as he approaches the edge. I adjust my grip, applying pressure where he’s most sensitive. The knowledge of his body, of what brings him pleasure, hits me with unexpected force. We built this familiarity in such a short time, through violence and tenderness alike.
“Come with me,” he whispers, his breathing ragged and uneven.
My own release builds, coiling tight at the base of my spine. I rock into my fist, our cocks sliding together in a rhythm that grows erratic as control slips away. Gabriel’s hand slides up to cup the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my wet hair.
His whole body goes taut, and Gabriel comes with a broken cry, his release pulsing hot over my fingers and stomach before the water washes it away. Witnessing his pleasure and the way he shudders within my hold pushes me over the edge.
My orgasm crashes through me in waves, muscles clenching as I spill between us, adding to the mess before the shower rinses us clean.
For long moments, we stand under the spray,bodies pressed together, breath mingling in the steam-filled air. Gabriel sags against me, all his remaining strength leaving him at once. I hold him upright, my free arm low around his waist, hand gripping his hip to avoid most of his injuries.
When our breathing steadies, I reach for the soap dispenser, squeezing a dollop into my palm. With gentle movements, I wash us both.
Gabriel allows me to maneuver him around, rinsing away soap and the last traces of the night’s violence. His lids droop, exhaustion overtaking his effort to stay present.
“Almost done,” I murmur, turning off the water when we’re both clean.
I step out first, grabbing two fluffy towels from the heated rack on the wall. Wrapping one around my hips, I use the other to dry Gabriel with care, starting with his hair and working my way down. He submits to my care without protest, swaying on his feet.
“You need to lie down before you fall down,” I tell him, securing the towel around his hips.
His hand finds mine as I lead him to the bedroom. The king-sized bed dominates the space, its dark covers already turned down. Gabriel collapses on the edge, his movements clumsy with fatigue.
“Let me get the bandages and your sling back on,” I say, retrieving it from the bathroom.
