Page 23 of Yours on the Canvas

Fuck this.

I throw off my clothes, and step in behind him, and he startles as I lean my body against his. My cock settling between his ass cheeks.

“You don’t need to be doing this alone, dove. I can help you shower.” I say, reaching for the body soap.

“I’m fine, Sol,” his voice shaking, but I feel a shiver run through his body as my soap covered hands run over his back.

Pressing my thumbs into his shoulders, a moan breaks from his throat when I hit a sensitive spot. His head drops back, and I press a kiss to his throat as my finger tips trace his spine, before moving them to grip his hips.

“I’d say, it’s mutually beneficial, baby.” I say as I kiss the nape of his neck.

He turns his head, staring at me like I’m an idiot. “Sol, I can’t,” he says, his hips pushing back against my cock.

I smile against his skin, a small laugh breaking free as I place his hands on the wall in front of him.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to fuck you. You’re still too broken for that.” I look at him and lean in, whispering against his ear, “yet.”

He sucks in a breath as I wrap my hand around his cock, and give him a long pull, his head dropping back onto his shoulders.

“Sol…” My name whispered like a prayer.

My hand moves slowly, stroking him, as I watch his mouth drop open. Leaning down, I press my lips to his, my tongue licking slowly into his mouth. Pulling back, I take his bottom lip between my teeth, sucking it gently, and I give an appreciative hum as he moans against my mouth.

My hand matches my thrusts as my cock slides up between his cheeks, my arm wrapping gently around his shoulders to hold him against me. His breathing is erratic now as he chases his orgasm.

Kissing him, I whisper against his mouth, “Come for me, baby.”

“Sol…” his voice cracking around my name.

A few more flicks of my wrist, and I watch my boy fall apart in my arms, his body going stiff as his cum shoots onto the wall in front of him.

I push my hips faster against him, and a beat later, my cum coats his crease, mixing with the water washing it away.

“Good boy,” I murmur against his skin, feeling him whimper that small sound he makes when he’s overwhelmed and trying to pull himself together, I whisper, “Come on, sweet boy.” I reach for the body soap and guide him gently back against the wall, keeping my movements against his skin slow and careful. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

I feel the remnant twitch of muscle under his skin as I run my hands over his body, gently cleaning every inch of him.

Five minutes later, I have him standing in the middle of the bathroom where I run a towel over him, drying him carefully checking each bruise and cut, making sure nothing reopens.

He leans into me. “Thank you, Silas,” he whispers, exhaustion softening his gorgeous face. I look at him for a moment, taking in his damp curls, his hair the colour of chocolate, his eyes the colour of deep caramel. His sharp jaw, the one I love to nip at, and those high cheekbones that could cut glass, my boy is stunning to look at.

I rest my hand against the back of his neck, thumb brushing lightly over his skin.

“It’s okay, dove,” I say softly. “I’ve got you. Always.”

* * *

I’m in the kitchen with Hale and I hear the front door shut, as another of Jack’s visitors leave. “This place is like a fucking train station…” I complain, rubbing a hand over my face.

Hale laughs, and says “You would think people would let him rest.” before putting a massive amount of casserole into his mouth.

“Mmm. You would think.”

I know people mean well, but I also know that Jack needs rest, and he isn’t getting it when we have a constant revolving door of people coming to check in on him.

Every time he closes his eyes, someone knocks, to just “pop in.”

And every time I try to get him to lie down, Hale is climbing up beside him like a barnacle with a tablet.