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“Not even at a hair salon?”
“I don’t allow it. I can’t tolerate it.”
He made a non-committal sound. “So, letting me do this is a big deal for you?”
“Yes. More significantly, having another man stand behind me in such a small space—especially naked, is not something I thought I would ever allow again.”
He turned me to put me back under the showerhead, sluicing water through my hair, needing to stand close so he could reach. His chest brushed against mine, and our cocks were pressed between us. Neither of us flinched away.
“Is that why you never stay in bed with us?” He lathered his hands and began to wash my body, so I did the same with him. It was strange, intense. We took over washing ourselves before things got too sexual.
“Physical affection is hard for me. My therapist isn’t sure if it’s my neurodivergence, the abuse I experienced, or a mixture of the two. Maybe it’s because having people touch me has never been safe. It’s easier now, after years of being around my brother’s family, but it still feels awkward and unnatural.”
“If you want, maybe we can help you work on that.”
“Are you saying you want to snuggle with me, Valor Davenport?”
He looked sheepish. “It feels strange having sex with you and then having you leave the building entirely or go out to sit on the couch. We want you in bed with us, but only if that’s what you want, too.”
He slid his hand into my hair so that he could cup the back of my neck. Was he pulling me in for a kiss? His gaze was fastened on my lips.
I complied, letting him take the lead for a moment, even though I didn’t like the feeling of being controlled any more than I had when I was younger.
His lips were warm and firm against mine—very unlike Tarryn’s. With the first stroke of his tongue between my lips, arousal shivered through me.
We made out like horny teenagers, knocking into the walls of the shower, getting frustrated with the lack of space, like too many fish in a barrel. It was a large shower, considering the size of the suite, but it wasn’t designed for sex. Our make-out session turned partially into a wrestling match, with each of us trying to get the upper hand. I bumped him into the door, which popped open, and then we were out of the shower, dripping, slipping on the tiles. He lost his footing, and I followed him to the ground, breaking his fall, but pinning him down, our bodies slid against one another.
He fought me, but he ended up face down on the cold tiles anyway.
“Fuck you, Leduc.”
“No, fuck you, Davenport,” I whispered in his ear, making him shudder beneath me. I was covering him like a cold, wet blanket. My long, wet hair was plastered to our faces and necks. “Stay.”
He started to refuse, but I kissed the back of his neck, and he gasped, submitting.
I kissed my way down his back, nipping, running my hands along his wet skin. I moved lower still, forcing my knees between his thighs. He parted his legs reluctantly, gasping when I moved even lower down than he expected.
“Relax.”
“I don’t want—”
“Do you seriously not want this, or are you just being a prude?”
“I haven’t had it done to me. It feels like it’s too...”
“Gay?” I snorted.
“Maybe.”
“More gay than kissing me or taking my cock up your ass?”
“I don’t know. I guess not.”
“This is me, Valor. You don’t have to worry about being in charge when we’re together. Now be good and let me do what I want.”
He pressed his forehead against the floor. “It’s hard to shake off the stuff that’s been drilled into me. You know?”
“Even when I tease you about what you let me do, it’s just kink, not a reflection of how I really feel. I don’t think less of you for enjoying what I do to you, any more than you think less of Tarryn because she submits to you.” I tried to imagine being Valor but couldn’t. His identity was so tied to the idea of being dominant and heterosexual that he would refuse pleasure that supposedly didn’t fall within those parameters. How sadly limiting.
