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“Fuck the bandage. I know what needs wetting, and it ain’t these motherfucking stitches.”
Zayn squeezes my hand, giving me a knowing look. “He’s being fucking extra tonight. You’ll have to forgive him, York gets a bit hyper after a little bloodshed.”
“A little?”
“Okay, a lot.”
“I see.” I frown and Zayn winces, his eyes darkening as he lowers his voice.
“Sarcasm, bravado, and laughter is his way of coping.”
My heart squeezes. “And how doyoucope?”
“Sleep mainly. Not that I get much fucking respite where that’s concerned. Nightmares,” he explains with a shrug, looking more like the boy I met when we were kids than the man he is today.
I nod my head, understanding in the moment what he needs, what they both need. Distraction.Love. I can give them that in abundance. There are other ways to get off without full penetration, right? I’m more than happy to fulfil another one of my fantasies right here and now.
Cupping Zayn’s face in my hands, I press a gentle kiss against his lips. “Come on, let’s join York.”
“You sure about this? It’s been tough on you too. Despite how this fucker is behaving, we don’t expect anything from you, Pen. Not a damn thing.”
“I know that, Zayn. The thing is, even if I wanted to, we can’t anyway…”
“Can’t what?” York asks, his head peering around the entrance of the walk-in shower.
“No condoms,” I say with a shrug.
“Shit!” York looks down at his engorged cock then back up, laughing a little hysterically. “Zayn, please tell me—”
“Sorry man, didn’t really cross my mind whilst we were shooting holes in those bastards …” he shrugs.
York leans his head against the glass which is rapidly steaming up. “Fuck me,” he exclaims.
I can’t help but laugh. “Hey, we’ve got the rest of our lives to indulge in each other,” I say, meaning every word. I don’t intend to ever let them go.
Zayn smiles his chipped-tooth smile, and my heart does a little flip-flop. “I like the sound of that, Pen,” he says.
Taking his hand in mine, I pull him into the bathroom, shutting the door behind us. I can feel York’s eyes on me as I untie the cord at my waist and slide the robe from my shoulders, letting it fall to my feet.
“Jesus, fuck,” York mutters and out of the corner of my eye I see him fist his cock.
Smiling at the powerful way I feel right now, I run my hands over Zayn’s chest, my fingers lingering on the scars that crisscross his skin. “You have so many scars,” I say, a lump forming in my throat.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters.Youmatter,” I retort, pressing a gentle kiss against his lips. My fingers trail lower, hooking beneath the band of his boxers. I pull them down, sliding them over his hips and thighs. He kicks them away, standing naked before me. Entwining my fingers with his, I pull him towards the shower cubicle. As we step inside York steps out of the stream and backs up against the wall opposite, an intense look on his face as droplets of water drip from his hair and glide over his beautiful body.
“Hey,” I say softly, giving him a soft smile.
“Hey,” he replies, pressing a gentle kiss against my lips.
“Fuck, let me at least get clean first…” Zayn grumbles and I grin, nodding towards the bottle of body wash that’s sitting on a shelf beside York.
“Pass that to me, please,” I request. York hands it to me with another kiss.
Behind me Zayn steps under the water and tips his head backwards. I watch as he brings up his hands to swipe the droplets off his face, slicking his hair back. He lets out a low moan as the water runs over his skin, wetting him thoroughly. The tattoos on his upper arms glisten under the spray and my chest pangs at just how beautiful he is, how beautifully damaged by his scars, by his uncle and this life he’s been forced to live.
Wanting to smooth away some of the memories that he must have from every one of those scars, I pour some body wash into my hands, and hand the bottle back to York who’s looking at me intently. A sexy smile pulls up his lips and he pours some of the body wash into his hands.
