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Nothing to be done about it now. Evidently, I like pee…or more likely, Holden’s pee on me. I like anything having to do with him apparently.
“What the hell, Chase?” he breathes, his stream stopping entirely, and I just stare at him, not sure what to say. I like what I like. Sue me.
My mouth parts to explain—what, I’m not exactly sure—when I hear, “Are you pissing on a man, Holden? You know better than that!”
Our heads swivel simultaneously to the jungle, and I see Devon moving toward us, a frown on his face.
“You don’t pee on a jellyfish sting,” his voice booms, and my cock instantly deflates at how stern Devon sounds. Holden takes a step back, looking slightly apologetic.
“I knew that,” he says softly. “But you…you were in pain, and I didn’t know what else to do.”
He grabs at his boxers from his pile of clothes and hops on one foot to pull them on as Devon comes to a stop next to me.
“Well hell, what the fuck are you thinkin’?” Devon murmurs, glancing between us and then down at my leg. It looks red and swollen and wet.
“You need to get your man inside and use some vinegar on that,” Devon says, and Holden nods. “And then a hot compress. Pee, goddamn, what the fuck is going on in that head of yours?”
Holden blushes and grabs on to his clothes and mine.
“Come on, Chase. I think I have some vinegar in my apartment,” he says, and I stare at him, not sure what to do.
“My flip-flops,” I mutter and then point to the ground. Nothing is there and both men stare at me like I’ve lost my mind. Well, I haven’t lost it, not completely.
I bend down, wincing as I go, and start shoveling at the sand like a dog, my purple flip-flops emerging from the ground like a bone. My fingers wrap around them, and I shake them in front of me.
“Got ’em.”
They both stare down at me and then Devon mutters something under his breath that I can’t quite make out, but seems offensive as Holden moves toward me.
“Come on, Chase. Hurry. The longer it sits on your skin the worse it will be.”
We move toward the complex in silence, my mind slightly numb from the pain pulsing up my leg. When we make it to his apartment, I sink down on the couch as Holden rummages through his kitchen cabinets and then comes over to me with a bottle and a rag.
“Here,” he says, squatting between my legs, and a moment later, the acidic smell of the vinegar drifts up to my nose. He rubs at the sore spot on my leg, but all I can see is his hand moving up and down, all I can sense is how close he is to me. Who cares about the damn jellyfish? I’ve just missed him.
“You okay?” he asks, and I nod. He scrapes something against my leg, but I don’t really notice it. I just notice him. I’m staring intently at the top of his head. Wanna touch it. Wanna thread my fingers through his hair.
“This looks like it hurts so bad. Fuck, I shouldn’t have peed on it.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve had all kinds of accidents on the farm. One time a rusty nail went right through my foot, and another time I broke my arm when a horse kicked it.”
“What the hell, Chase?” Holden mutters, his movements faltering. “Farm life seems crazy.”
“Can be,” I say as Holden glances away from me.
“Just hold on, wait here,” he says when he stands up and leaves, returning a minute later with a hot compress.
He presses it against my skin and immediately, I feel the throbbing, biting pain start to subside.
“You’re gonna have a nasty welt there tomorrow.”
“Yep.”
Our gazes lock and time seems to slow.
“Thank you,” I finally manage to say.
“You’re welcome.”
