“I’ll be okay, honey. No worries.” He tried to flex, but damn.
“Well…” Looking skeptical, Dillon went ahead and ate, stealing peeks at him every few seconds.
He managed the shake and a bit of the sandwich before he gave up. “Can I borrow your shower?”
“You want me to come with you?” Popping up like a jack in the box, Dillon came over to help him up.
“I’d love that.” He nodded, took Dillon’s hand, feeling about ten thousand years old. “Remind me why I take on them bulls again?”
“Because you love your job, you’re good at it and sometimes you get stubborn.” A tug and a smile, and Dillon led him to the bathroom, which seemed bright as hell once the light was on.
“Shit.” He saw himself in the mirror and winced. “Jesus, I look like Frankenstein. Turn the light off.”
“I’m blind as a bat, Coke. How about we compromise and turn that weird heat lamp thing on?” The soft red glow was better, even if it made the walls seem all bloody.
“You wear contacts?” He loved all the weird little details.
“I do, and my night vision is for shit.” That lean body appeared as Dillon stripped down.
He got the water going, then slipped his shorts off and stepped in.
“God, Coke.” Dillon touched him, gentle as anything, tracing around the bruises.
He nodded, head under the water. “Feels good, you touching and all.” It felt more than good. Hell, it was like magic.
“Then I’ll keep on keeping on.” Dillon moved even closer, hands sliding up and down his back, easing things.
His hands landed on Dillon’s hips—he loved the unexpectedly solid feel of the man, the heat of him. Dillon guided him back under the water a little farther, getting it really falling on him. Damn, but that un-kinked his muscles. He stretched, hearing things crack and pop. Shit, he was getting old. Still, he reckoned it was better than the alternative.
“I got you. Here, turn around.” They shifted, Dillon moving him to get to his back, which was the least tore up. Then he got him a massage.
There was this sound that poured out of him, loud enough that it startled him.
“Is that bad?” Not that Dillon stopped. No, sir. Those hands kept moving, fingers digging in to make him feel like an overcooked noodle.
“No. Not bad. Jesus, honey, I’m fixin’ to have to keep you.”
“Oh, good.” Dillon really worked him over, and the hot water hit his chest and belly, and damned if his knees didn’t get weak.
“Don’t stop.” He wasn’t sure if he said it out loud, and it felt so good he didn’t care if he did. Those hands were pure magic.
“Not going to. You know I have stamina.”Little butthead. Dillon lived up to his claim, though, massaging him into a puddle.
“Shit. I’d like to see you carry my heavy ass.”
“Well, for all I said I couldn’t a while ago, I bet I could. Of course, right now you’re all slippery.” The water started to cool off a bit, and Dillon was right there, turning it off, getting a couple of towels.
He let Dillon help him climb out of the tub and they set to drying each other off.
“There. Come on, Coke. You still have some shake left, and then you can crash, huh?”
“Now, I could hold you for a bit, you know.”
He got a bright smile, Dillon tickled as anything. “I can do that, babe. I really can.”
That little nickname made his belly jump, his cheeks heat. “Sounds good.”
Babe.
