Marshall’s jaw tightens, and I see the vulnerability flash across his face before he can hide it. “Are you?”
“Of course not.” I shift against him and feel the uncomfortable crust of dried cum on my stomach and thighs. The reminder of last night sends heat through me. “Shower?”
Marshall raises an eyebrow. “Is that an invitation?”
I grin and slide out of bed, completely naked, and glance at him over my shoulder. “Follow me and find out.”
I don’t wait to see if he’s coming. I just walk toward the bathroom door, putting a little extra swing in my hips because I know he’s watching. I hear the sheets rustle behind me, then the sound of his feet hitting the floor.
The bathroom is bright with morning sun streaming through the frosted window. I turn on the shower, adjusting the temperature until it’s just right, and step inside. The hot water hits my skin and I groan, tilting my head back to let it soak my hair.
The glass door opens and Marshall steps in behind me. The shower is big enough for two, but he crowds me anyway, pressing his chest against my back, his hands sliding around my waist.
“Good morning,” he murmurs against my ear.
“Morning.” I lean back into him, feeling the heat of his skin through the water. His cock is half-hard against my lower back, and mine is responding, filling out with interest.
Marshall’s hands roam over my stomach, my chest, tracing the lines of muscle and bone. One hand slides lower, wrapping around my cock, and I gasp.
“W-what are you doing?”
“You’re the one who invited me into your shower.” His voice is rough, his grip firm as he strokes me slowly from base to tip. “What did you think was going to happen?”
I don’t have an answer. I just push back against him, feeling his cock fully hard now, pressing between my ass cheeks.
Marshall groans and turns me around, reaching down to wrap his hand around both our cocks. The feeling is overwhelming, heat and pressure and slick skin sliding together. He strokes us both with firm, steady movements, and I have to grasp his muscled shoulders to keep myself upright.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
“You feel like heaven,” Marshall says against my ear. His other arm wraps around my waist, holding me against him while he works us both. “Can’t get enough of you.”
I’m already close, my body greedy for more. The sensation of our cocks sliding together, the pressure of Marshall’s hand, the heat of the water cascading over us. It’s all too much.
“Marshall,” I gasp. “I’m going to—”
“Me too.” His strokes get faster. “Come for me, baby.”
The endearment pushes me over the edge. I come with a shout, spilling over Marshall’s hand and both our stomachs, and a second later Marshall pulses against me, his release mixing with mine.
We stand there for a moment, panting, the water washing away the evidence of what we just did. Marshall’s arm is still wrapped around my waist, holding me up, and I’m grateful for it because I’m not sure my legs would support me on their own.
“Fuck,” I say again, eloquent as always.
Marshall chuckles and presses a kiss to my shoulder. “Yeah.”
We finish showering properly, soaping up and rinsing off, hands wandering. When we’re clean, we step out and dry off, and then we brush our teeth standing side by side at the sink, meeting each other’s eyes in the mirror. It’s domestic and normal, and I didn’t know I wanted this until right now.
When we’re done, we head downstairs. Marshall is wearing sweatpants and nothing else, and I’ve pulled on a pair of sleep shorts and a t-shirt. Morning sun fills the kitchen, and I go straight to the espresso machine while Marshall opens the fridge.
“What do you want for breakfast?”
“Whatever you’re making.”
He nods, pulling out eggs and bacon.
We work in companionable silence, Marshall cracking eggs into a bowl while I make coffee. The smell of it fills the kitchen, followed by the sizzle of bacon hitting the hot pan. I watch Marshall move around with easy confidence, and something in my chest swells.
This is what I want. This quiet morning routine with him. This partnership.
