He flicks his gaze back up to mine.
“I’m okay,” I whisper.
He inhales sharply and moves past me to turn the shower on, adjusting the spray to a gentle, warm setting and testing the temperature with his hand.
I’m about to step in when he stops me with a hand on my shoulder. “What are you doing? Take your boxers off.”
I pause, suddenly shy. “Oh… uh…”
Soren grins, the expression surprisingly soft. “Christopher, I’ve seeneveryinch of you. Don’t go shy now.”
The blush shoots up my neck and face. I turn away from him before pushing my boxers down, suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed I am. I feel Soren’s presence closer behind me, and turn slightly, he’s trying to glance at my cock.
I make a little embarrassed noise and cover myself with my hand. “Soren!”
He rumbles a deep laugh. “Get in.”
I huff and climb into the shower. The warm water feels incredible on my back. I don’t want to face the spray directly, I’m not sure if I should keep my face dry or not.
I hear something hit the floor and turn my head slightly to see what Soren’s doing.Oh hell. Soren’s standing there completely naked, his clothes discarded in a pile on the floor. My breath catches, eyes widening for a second before I quickly squeeze them shut, heart hammering. I know this is just him helping me, of course he’s not going to shower fully clothed, that would be ridiculous. But the sight of his tanned, inked, muscled body still hits me hard.
I shuffle forward a little as he steps in behind me, the warm steam thickening around us.
Soren’s voice is quiet and steady. “Relax for me, Kit.”
I nod, trying my best, even though my pulse is racing. He pulls the shower head down into his hand and positions it above my hair, carefully angled away from my face. The water runs through my dirty curls, warm and soothing, washing away grime and sweat.
His large fingers start massaging my scalp, working the water through every strand. I close my eyes, the tension in my shoulders melting away under his touch. A moment later he squirts shampoo into my curls and returns to massaging, the scent clean and familiar.
Soren’s breathing seems heavier now, but I tell myself it’s probably just the steam.
A couple of minutes later he’s finished… my curls are clean, conditioned, and feeling smooth again for the first time in over a week. I run my hands through them and turn slightly, smiling up at him.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Soren nods, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.
I grab the sponge and some shower gel, pouring a generous amount onto the sponge before gently starting to clean myself. I only manage my arms before Soren reaches around and takes the sponge from my hand. He guides it down my side with careful strokes, mindful of the bruises, then up and down my back, around to my front.
He inhales sharply when he brings the sponge back to my ass. I swallow hard, anticipation coiling low in my stomach. I kind of don’t want him to just wash and move on. I want to feel like he still finds me attractive, scar or no scar.
Soren gently spreads one of my cheeks and rubs the sponge over my hole a few times. The friction, combined with the fact that it’s him doing it, pulls an accidentalmoan from my throat. I brace my hands on the tiled wall, breath shaky.
Soren freezes, the sponge still pressed against me. “You okay?”
I nod quickly. “Yeah… sorry.”
He moves again, testing, and I moan softly once more.
Soren growls low in his chest. “Fuck… maybe this was a bad idea.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, but I don’t mean it at all.
Soren hesitates. “I’ll get out.”
I bite my lip, heart racing, and say quietly, “You know, there’s nothing wrong with my ass.”
He pauses. “What?”
