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What the fuck is wrong with me? Get it together, Navarro. He’s fucking hurt, and you’re acting like… like I don’t know what.
“Max?”
“I’m gonna put you down, okay? Don’t put weight on your foot. I’ll hold on to you, and you can piss.”
“I’m not pissing while you hold me!”
I barked out a laugh at his indignation. “Why the hell not?”
“I don’t need help to piss.”
“Tonight you do.”
Carefully, I lowered him, grasping his hips while he balanced his weight on the uninjured foot. He wobbled and shook, arms flailing out to try and balance himself. Cursing, I stepped up, molding my front against his back. He leaned into me instantly, a sigh of gratefulness moving through him.
Wrapping my arms around his chest, I lifted him and moved a couple steps closer to the toilet.
When I didn’t back up, just stayed there with my arms wrapped around him, he looked over his shoulder. Squinting against the light, his brows drew down, and I noted he still had dried blood matted in his hair. “You can go now,” he told me.
I chuckled. “Just piss already.”
The high points of his cheeks flushed. “I’m not pulling out my dick while you hold me.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“Since we were kids!” he yelled.
I narrowed my eyes. “Stop yelling. You’re gonna hurt your head.”
He huffed. “Get out.”
“No.”
“I’ll piss myself.” He threatened.
“You need a shower anyway.”
“Max, I can’t,” he whined, chin dropping.
Reaching up, I caught his chin, forcing it back up so he had to look at me. “Why?”
His eyes slid to the side, and I tightened my fingers. “Wesley.”
His entire body slumped, and I had to let go of his chin to use both arms to hold him up.
“That was before,” he whispered.
I cocked my head to the side. “Before what?”
The sound of his swallow echoed in the room. “Before you knew I’m gay.”
I sucked in a breath, arms automatically tightening around his torso. Ignoring the cyclone of emotion whipping up inside, I said, “I didn’t realize gay dicks looked different than straight ones.”
“It’s not funny.”
I made a sound, widening my feet so I could drop lower and rest my chin on his shoulder. “I know it’s not,” I said softly. “I don’t care about it, Wes. Gay or not, you’re still mine.”
Because I was holding him so tight, I felt his sharp intake of breath. Possession rolled through me like the baddest thunderstorm to ever exist, bad enough to wipe out the cyclone previously whipping me apart.
