“I’m about to put you in the water.”
Jett jolted awake, limbs flailing as he registered the lack of a solid bed under his body. A pained grunt brought him back to earth, and he peered upward, meeting luminous blue eyes.
“You awake?”
Jett looked around, trying to center himself enough to remember where he was.
A bathroom…Harrison had carried him to a bathroom…in the hotel…
“I passed out?” Jett asked, taking in the ruffled sight of his boyfriend. Harrison was covered in scratch marks that he didn’t remember putting there.
Oops.
“Jesus Christ, Harrison—put me the fuck down.” Jett kicked his feet, forcing Harrison to let go of him. He made sure his legs could take weight before he stood and glared at the grinning man.
“You need to stop carrying me. I don’t care how manly it makes you feel, your leg can’t handle it.”
“It’s fine,” said Harrison, folding his arms defensively. “The damn thing isn’t made of glass.”
Jett mimicked his posture and lifted his chin for good measure. “Stand on it.”
Harrison’s smirk slid off his face. “What?”
He fucking knew it.
“Stand on your bad leg for more than twenty seconds and I’ll stop worrying about it.”
Jettwaited, watching Harrison size him up like he was contemplating his chances of winning. His body shifted, and Jett spotted the flinch of pain before he could bother with an attempt.
“Fine.” Harrison dropped his arms and stepped toward the tub. “Come soak with me. I want to cuddle.”
Cuddle? Harrison wanted to cuddle?
The surge of love he felt toward his stubborn, infuriating man left him feeling dizzy. He didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky in the relationship department because not only was Harrison the most protective guy he’d ever been with, he waskind.
He had let Jett take a nap while he cleaned them and made the bath ready for them. He would also bet money that Harrison had cleaned their sex window too because he was an adorable neat freak.
The soaker tub was large enough to make Harrison look normal-sized when he was sitting in it. The water level stopped just below his pecs, drawing attention to them like a beacon.
Harrison caught on to his leering and scowled. “Dude, I can’t go for another round. I think it would kill me.”
Jett scoffed at Harrison’s grouchiness. “You made me come so many times that you broke my dick.”
Harrison opened his arms toward him, hands making grabby motions. “Broke your dick? How?”
Jett waited until he was in the water—surrounded by warmth and Harrison’s hard muscles—to continue the conversation. When Harrison rested his chin on Jett’s shoulder and let out a pleased sigh, he smiled, his heart tripping behind his ribs.
“I came, but I wasn’t hard,” Jett explained, waving his hands dramatically. “I don’t know what you do to my body, but it’s not fucking normal.”
Harrison had curled his large frame around him and was stroking the tops of Jett’s thighs lazily, seemingly very happy to have him in his arms.
It hit him then—how much Harrison must have missed him when he was…working through his shit. Sure, he had stayed in bed with him through most of it, but Jett hadn’t been present during those two weeks, and it showed.
“I didn’t break your damn dick,” said Harrison. “It’s called a prostate orgasm. Did you not know that was possible?”
This was the first time Jett had heard anything about it. He knew the magic butt button certainly helped get him off, but to think it could do its own thing without its partner in crime? Weird.
Also, awesome.
