“I’m sorry I gave you a reason.”
“That’s done.”
“Done.”
He pressed me back against the tile. The water hit his shoulders andran down between us. He took us both in one hand, slick already, our two cocks pressed flush together. The slide of him against me with shower water and the lather still clinging to our skin was almost too much. The metal at my tip dragged against the underside of him on every stroke. He hissed every time it caught his slit. So did I.
We worked each other like that, his hand on both of us, my hand over his to keep the rhythm steady, our mouths catching each other’s mouths between gasps. The water was still hot. The basil and bergamot still strong in the steam. The geometric line of his sleeve catching the light every time he breathed. The slick between us under the warm water slid down our wrists, dripped onto the tile.
“I love you.” He said in between ragged breaths.
“I love you.”
I came with his forehead on mine and the water running between us and his free hand spread over my heart, the way he always put it there now, like a habit he’d built the first night and never let go of. My cock pulsed thick in his fist. The cum came hot and white between our stomachs, the water carrying it down between us into the drain. He came a breath behind me, his name on my mouth, his hips stuttering against mine. The cum pulsed warm over both our hands. The shower carried it all into a soft echo.
He didn’t move for a long time. Held me there. Water at our shoulders. The basil bar had gone soft on its dish.
“We’re going to get cold.”
“We are.”
He shut the water off.
He led me out of the bathroom. Steam followed us into the hall. The bedroom was cool after the shower. He pulled back the duvet, laid me out, and slid in behind me and wrapped his arm around my chest, his hand finding the place over my heart it always found now.
“Stay,” he said, though I wasn’t going anywhere.
“I’m staying.”
“On Jack’s life?”
“Don’t bring Jack into this.”
“Too late. He’s a witness.”
I laughed into the dark. His heart steady against my back. The basil and bergamot still on his skin and on mine.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. Couldn’t. His arm stayed locked across my chest. My hand pressed over his.
“Don’t,” I whispered when his arm started to loosen. “Not yet. One second.”
He stayed. His breath on the back of my neck. His heartbeat steady against my spine. The wet still in my hair. His tears on my shoulder, or maybe mine on the pillow. Hard to say. Didn’t matter.
When he finally shifted, rolled me toward him so we faced each other in the dark, I pressed my forehead to his. Both of us breathing slow. Both of us shaking a little, from the cold, from the sheer force of what had passed between us.
“Stay,” he said again.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know. I wanted to say it.”
I pressed my mouth against his hair. “I’m not going to ghost you, Ellis. Not now. Not ever. You’re stuck with me.”
“Promise?”
“On Jack’s life.”
He laughed into my chest, the quiet, private sound that only happened in the dark, and I held him. The shaking slowed. My heart stopped hammering so hard it threatened to crack my ribs.
