Chapter Twenty-Two #3
I watched him, fearful that he would begin to show signs of regret, despite his earlier proclamation. Instead, when his breathing normalized, he glanced over to me with a grin.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He seemed surprised. “Why wouldn’t I be? Blowing a load is good.”
Despite my nervousness, I found myself laughing. “You’re…refreshingly self-assured.”
Aaron looked at me with hooded eyes. “Yeah? I thought you were going to say I’m a stud. Look at the mess I made, man. It’s like a piece of art. I should grab my phone, snap a photo, and send it to the Gardner Museum in Boston.”
“Okay, I knew you’d make it weird,” I joked.
He pulled me into an embrace, which surprised me. I was face-to-face, skin-to-skin with Aaron. “Thanks, Mikey.”
I nodded. I didn’t know why he was expressing gratitude. If he only knew how much I had wanted that, he might have felt differently.
He took a hold of my hip so that he and I were standing side-by-side under the shower head, rinsing the cum from our bodies before soaping everywhere we hadn’t yet.
“This isn’t like our apartment,” I said, to change the subject. “The water would have gotten cold a long time ago.”
Aaron reached for the faucet handle and turned off the spray. “Come on. I’ll dry you off.”
I followed him out of the shower—the pain lessened from the steam and euphoria. But when I raised my arm to grab a towel from the shelf, I howled.
“I said, let me dry you off,” he reminded me in a chastising tone.
At this point, I was past embarrassment. I decided to luxuriate in his tender caring.
“Cold,” I complained, shivering now that we were standing under one of the air-conditioning vents.
He vigorously rubbed the towel over my chest and back, then more gently through my hair and over my aching arms and legs.
I was about to grab the towel from him, but he ignored my outstretched hand, then wiped my dick, balls and buttocks as if doing so was no more consequential than drying off his just-washed car.
Although he was still dripping, he grabbed one of the long luxurious robes from a door hook and helped me into it.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
“Warmer?” he asked. I nodded.
Aaron dried himself off. As he did, his muscles flexed, his flaccid cock and balls jostled, and wet hair fell over his forehead. He was as beautiful as any man ever created.
Once he finished, he grabbed the other robe from the door and covered his magnificence. I might have sighed.
“My sling,” I reminded him.
Aaron shot me a look that signaled he had forgotten. He grabbed it from the vanity counter and helped get my arm back into its confines.
“No more accidents,” he chided.
“I’ll try,” I promised.
“Come on. Now you can get in that bed you’ve been eyeing.” He ruffled my hair, then helped me back into the bedroom.
I didn’t realize how difficult it would be to hoist myself up onto a high mattress with an arm in a sling, the other one in pain, and a twisted ankle.
Aaron surprised me again by picking me up, very much like James’ description of a groom with a bride.
“You don’t need…”
“Apparently, I do,” he countered, before laying me down on the bed. “Try to sleep on your back or your good arm.”
“Okay,” I replied.
He rounded the foot of the bed, then took the robe off and placed it on the chair. Aaron must have guessed my unasked question. “I’m not sleeping in a heavy robe.”
That was fine by me.
I watched his beautiful body in motion once again as he climbed up onto the mattress before pulling the sheet up to his chest. He reached over to the lamp on the nightstand near him and switched it off.
“If you need me during the night, let me know,” he whispered. “Don’t try to do something stupid by yourself.”
“Okay. I’ll only do something stupid with you,” I promised.
He chuckled. “Appreciate that.”
I thought we should talk about what happened, but I was too afraid to bring it up.
I feared if he worried I was making a big deal about it, it would become the strange thing he assured me it wouldn’t be.
Plus, I didn’t know how I could talk about it without disclosing the truth—that sharing something like that with him wasn’t just a stress relief.
The friendship space I had placed him in had become blurred, and it reminded me all over again that if I could have more, I’d be the happiest person in the world.
But I couldn’t, and it made me hope even more that Cliff chose me.
If Cliff did, Aaron wouldn’t suggest more antics like those we’d just shared.
It would allow me to reset things with Aaron, saving me angst and worse—a conversation that could end our relationship.
“Are you asleep?” he asked.
“No.”
“Are you nervous about tomorrow’s finale?” He was still facing away from me on his side as he spoke.
“Yes.”
“That Cliff won’t choose you?” he wondered.
“Yeah,” I admitted, because I didn’t know if I could go back to the apartment with Aaron and pretend things hadn’t changed for me…for us.
He was quiet for a couple of moments, and I wondered if he had fallen asleep. “I hope he chooses you, then.”