“Don’t say ‘please.’”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you when you say shit like that.”
Jamie kept his face hidden, but the resigned sincerity lacing his words burned a path through Marc’s battered old soul. He held Jamie a little tighter and kissed the top of his head. “You’ve got to trust me, Jamie. I’ll never hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”
With a soft sigh, Jamie nodded. “I do know that, but I don’t know why I know it. And it doesn’t matter, because I can’t stop you being who you are. And I don’t want to. I just want you to feel better too...”
Jamie’s voice fell away like he was too tired to speak, even though he had so much more to say. Marc kissed him one more time and then reluctantly drew back. “Come on. Let’s get some hot water on that shoulder, then you need to rest.”
“Says you. You’ve been up for days.”
“Not true. I had a kip yesterday afternoon. Now stop arguing and come with me.”
Jamie stopped arguing and let Marc lead him to the ground floor bathroom he’d had rebuilt before he’d moved in permanently. With its walk-in shower, it was perfect for decrepit injured bodies like his own. He turned the water on and retrieved clean towels from the cupboard under the sink. “The water will relax the muscles so they’ll contract less around the injury. Sounds too good to be true, but it works.”
“I believe you.” Jamie took the towel Marc held out and unbuttoned his jeans. Marc turned away, but it was Jamie’s turn to grab him and haul him back. “Nah. Don’t think you’re walking out of that door and leaving me to stew in here on my own.”
“What?”
Jamie quirked an eyebrow and the fleeting gleam in his eyes brought his face back to life. “If I’m getting wet, so are you. Besides, you think I can get these jeans off by myself?”
He had a point there. As tight as they were, it wasn’t clear how he’d got them on the first place, even without an injured shoulder. “Come here, then.” It came out lower than Marc had intended, and he tried to ignore Jamie’s smirk as he eased Jamie’s skintight jeans over his slender hips and fought the urge to look down. “Are you going to be a brat about this?”
“I’m trying not to be, but I don’t want to get in that shower on my own.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want to be with you.”
Put like that, how could Marc refuse? He knelt and wrestled Jamie’s jeans down his legs as Jamie steadied himself on the sink. Jamie’s legs were as slim as the rest of him, his feet delicately perfect. Marc closed his hand around Jamie’s elegant ankle and pressed his thumb into the pressure point that, on his own body, went straight to his dick.
Jamie groaned. “Don’t tell me the good doctor has a foot fetish?”
“Nah, he just knows how to distract a man from pain.”
“Only men? Bet you’re good with the ladies too.”
“I’ve not been around many since my wife, and I wasn’t around her much.” Marc released Jamie’s ankle and stood slowly, giving in to the urge to gaze up Jamie’s naked body until he met Jamie’s eyes.
Jamie stared back at him with no trace of shyness, apparently at ease with his nudity. The sight of him made Marc dizzy as he realised that it was his turn to strip if he wanted to get in the shower with Jamie.
Andfuckhe wanted to get in the shower with Jamie, even if it was only to give them both some much-needed relief from the last few days.
He pulled his rugby shirt over his head. Jamie was on him instantly, his teeth sinking gently into Marc’s chest, scraping so sweetly that Marc gasped, gripping Jamie’s good shoulder hard enough to draw another groan from Jamie—the best kind of groan... the kind that went straight to Marc’s groin and thoroughly distracted him from the task at hand.
But Jamie clearly hadn’t forgotten that Marc was still half-dressed. He unbuttoned Marc’s jeans and slid his hands beneath the waistband, clawing at Marc’s hips, his fingers seeming to dance knowingly over the spots that couldn’t handle much pressure, and then he moved lower, grazing the firm swell of Marc’s backside.
Marc gasped, and any nerves at revealing his ruined body to Jamie were clean forgotten in his desperation to feel bare skin against skin. He pushed his jeans and underwear down his legs, and kicked them aside with his prosthesic foot. Finally free, his cock rose up to meet Jamie, who had been hard since Marc had rid him of his own clothes, but Marc didn’t touch his dick—didn’t squeeze it, swipe his thumb over it, or jerk himself off, though his body screamed at him to. This wasn’t about getting off, it was about helping Jamie, and boner or not, the need to ease Jamie’s pain won out.
He kissed Jamie once, slow and deep, and then pulled away. “Shower.”
Jamie said nothing, and Marc didn’t have to look to know that he was appraising his naked body. He carried the weight of Jamie’s stare to the shower and opened the door. He fully expected to have to manhandle Jamie under the spray, and so Jamie’s sudden presence at his back startled him, the lips on his spine even more.
“I get it now,” Jamie said softly.
“Get what?”