Chapter Twenty-Two
Mikey
After the accident at the renovation site, the producers had allowed me and Aaron to leave the set so I could be checked out in the emergency room.
We had thought we’d be able to return to the set in time to film our confessionals, but between the wait for a doctor and the number of tests they had wanted to run, we’d ended up having to call the producers to apologize and bail.
Once the test results returned, I was diagnosed with a hairline fracture in both my right shoulder and wrist. The doctor said I likely twisted my ankle and that would feel better quickly, though for now, it seemed to hurt the worst. My left arm was also nearly useless, as it was so sore, it was agony to lift it higher than my waist. That might have been from the demolition work as well as using the arm to support myself from falling into the basement.
Although everything would heal on its own without surgery, the doctors had put my right arm in a sling with orders to wear it for a few weeks, other than to bathe.
Aaron and I must have been a sight, both of us walking into the medical facility looking like coal mine workers. Aaron had brushed off as much dirt from the two of us as he could beforehand, but that had been no substitute for soap and water.
Now that we were on our way to Cliff’s mansion, I was eager to clean myself and slip into bed. I looked forward to popping one of the super-strength pain-relieving pills the doctor had prescribed, which Aaron had been nice enough to pick up at the pharmacy on our way back.
Once we were under the portico of the mansion, one of Cliff’s staff bounded from the house to park the car Cliff had loaned us. Simultaneously, James emerged to help Aaron haul me up the steps to the front door.
“I can do it,” I said, immediately stumbling as I put weight on the twisted ankle.
“Let us help you or I’m going to carry you up,” Aaron warned.
James chuckled. “Aww. The others will think you both got married.”
“Looking like this?” I asked, ignoring the silliness of the idea that my straight roommate would choose to wed me.
Aaron snorted. “That’s not how I’d carry him if we were newlyweds. I’d throw him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
James laughed. “At least he’d get a nice view of your butt as you climb the stairs.”
“He’s already seen it and etched it into his memory for life,” Aaron replied.
“I have not!” I snapped. “I don’t even remember it, other than it was flat and covered with black hair.”
Aaron stopped us, looking across me to James. “That’s a vicious lie. He’s describing Daryl’s ass.”
“Was I?” I taunted. “See what I mean? Forgettable.”
“You won’t forget the kick I’ll give yours,” Aaron shot back. “Now lift your good foot onto the first stair. Hold on to me and James.”
Each step up was agony. I needed to put more of my weight onto Aaron, since he was on my left and, with pain, I was able to wrap my arm over his shoulder. The most James could do was guide my right elbow.
“You’re doing great, Mikey,” James encouraged. “Only a dozen more steps or so.”
I rolled my eyes. “Damned mansions. Who built this staircase? The set designer for Titanic?”
“Well, most of the guys who’ve used it have been known to go down,” James quipped.
Aaron shook his head. “That was bad, dude.”
“Really bad,” I concurred.
“Sorry,” James said, not sounding it at all. “Too soon?”
Finally, we made it to the second floor, and we hobbled to the room where Aaron and I were staying. I eyed the bed with longing.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Aaron veered me away from the object of my desire and walked me toward the bathroom. “You’re not getting in bed all filthy.”
“I can’t shower,” I complained. “Everything hurts too much.”
“That’s why I’m going to help you,” he replied.
“You’re what now?”
“Do you want me to stay and help you, too?” James asked.
“Sure. Invite the whole household upstairs to watch. Maybe Daryl can entertain everyone with more body shaming,” I snarled.
“I’ll fix his covered wagon,” Aaron sniped. “Don’t worry about that.”
“What does that mean?” James wondered.
Aaron shrugged with his free shoulder. “Something my mother always used to tell me and my sister before she’d punish us. It didn’t go well when I responded once that we were sick of hearing about her childhood transportation.”
James snorted. “I’ll bet. So, do I stay or go?”
Aaron answered for me. “I can manage. Mikey is shy. Since I’ve already seen him naked, though, he won’t give me any grief about helping him.” He turned to me. “Will he?”
“Yes, I will,” I mumbled.
“Then I guess you’d better stay, James,” Aaron rationalized. “He could hurt himself if he’s trying to fight me. I’ll need your help to restrain him.”
I scowled. “Fine! I’ll…let you help me into the shower.”
Aaron grinned like he always did when he got his way. That was almost all the time.
“I’ll leave you, then.” James removed his hand from my arm. “Mikey, if you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask. You or Aaron can just push the intercom by the bed, and I’ll be here in a jiffy.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, before James mouthed the words ‘good luck’ to Aaron and exited the bathroom. I narrowed my eyes at Aaron. “Jiffy? He looks remarkably young for a senior citizen.”
“And you look like a street urchin. I think you took half the house down with your fall.” Aaron positioned me so I could lean back against the vanity. “Let me undress you.”
Words I had always longed to hear from Aaron, until now.
“Turn off the lights then,” I demanded.
“How am I supposed to see what I’m doing in the dark? Don’t be like this.” He sighed. “See how it was a good thing you already showed me your dick? Now there’s no reason to feel shy.”
In theory, he was right. I tried to focus on that since there was no way I was in any condition to pull my T-shirt over my head, let alone walk myself into the shower.
“I’ll wash myself,” I warned.
“You’ll do what you’re able to do, and you’ll let me do the rest.” His tone made it clear he wasn’t willing to debate. He could be stubborn like me.
“This is embarrassing,” I complained.
He gently removed my arm from the sling, but it was still enough to make me wince in pain. “Brute!”
“Shh,” he soothed. The fact that he didn’t return a snarky remark made me realize he was genuinely worried about hurting me. “I’m doing my best, Mikey.”
Aaron glanced at my face, and his expression said so much. Trust me. Let me take care of you. Don’t be angry with me.
“You’re a good friend, Aaron,” I whispered.
He nodded. “The best.”
I laughed. “Arrogant, though.”
Aaron smiled. “Don’t be like that, pookie.”
He didn’t ask permission as he began removing clothes. Then again, I guess I had already conceded. Aaron unbuttoned my beat-up jeans, undid the zipper, then lowered the pants to my ankles. It would have been erotic if it weren’t for the circumstances.
I lifted my good foot so he could remove the sneaker and sock, then slide the jeans over my ankle. I grimaced as he repeated the process with my lame foot.
“Hurts,” I stated.
To my surprise, he placed a couple of gentle kisses on the calf of my injured leg. “Sorry, Mikey.”
His action was causing my dick to swell a bit. I cursed silently, trying to think of every awful thing imaginable. I focused on Daryl mocking me, and it seemed to stem the blood flow. I wasn’t flaccid, but at least I didn’t have a full-on erection.
Aaron slid down my briefs as if he was unveiling a precious statue.
“Why are you going so slow?” I barked.
He looked up, a strange expression on his face. “I… I’m trying to be gentle.”
“My balls aren’t injured,” I reminded him. Then I felt guilty. “I didn’t mean to be a jerk. I’m just in a hurry to get this over with.”
Aaron nodded but still had that weird look I hadn’t ever seen before. It was like he wanted to tell me something but hesitated. Dude, with your face in front of my sack, maybe pick a better time to chat.
He finally got the underwear off my legs and tossed it to the corner of the room.
“Okay, the hard part,” he cautioned once he was standing again. “Try to bend forward and extend your arms. I’ll pull the T-shirt off you.”
Aaron was right. The movement was painful, but I imagined it was far better than having tried to lift my arms over my head. Despite my bashfulness, I was glad the clothes were off and I could avoid irritating my wounds further.
He walked over to the shower and turned on the hot water.
“Just help me walk over and I’ll take it from there,” I ordered.
Aaron ignored me, removing his T-shirt instead. Then he reached for the button on his jeans. “You’re not going to be able to wash your hair. And believe me, it needs to be cleaned.”
“Wha…what are you doing?” I stammered as he kicked off his loafers, then removed his socks.
“How am I supposed to wash your hair while standing outside the shower?” he reasoned, shoving down his jeans.
I had seen him this close to naked when he was in the dressing room, but I had been so busy trying to avert my eyes, I wouldn’t have been able to recall the image.
Now, as he stood before me in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, I marveled at how amazing his build was.
Unlike Cliff, he wasn’t bordering on bodybuilder muscles.
Aaron was lean but oh so toned. Every part of him was sculpted and beautiful.
Even his body hair was pretty—not too dense, light-colored, and practically glistening under the overhead bathroom light.
“Um, you’re going to get naked?” I asked.
He shrugged. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I can shower in my underwear.”
I might have shaken my head too quickly and vigorously. “No. I mean, I’m not…uncomfortable.” I’m immensely uncomfortable, but way more curious.
Aaron acted like it wasn’t a big deal, dropping the underwear and letting the garment fall at his ankles. He kicked it off. “Ready?”