45. Chapter 45 #2
Even though Beau was quiet, Colt didn't mind. He was calmer. Colt could tell by the softness in his shoulders, by the set of his mouth. Beau didn't always have words like Colt did, but that didn't mean he didn't have anything to say. Closing his eyes, Colt let the silence sit.
***
Skin pink and smelling like eucalyptus, Colt sat on the edge of Beau’s bed wearing the shorts he'd left here last time—which Beau had pulled out of the guest room cleaned and folded, thank you, like he'd fully expected Colt to spend the night again.
Beau shuffled around the room getting stuff together.
He'd showered down the hall while Colt had soaked in a warm bath full of Epsom salts in the master bath, and his hair was damp and slicked back from his face.
Handsome bastard in his black sweats and tight brown tee, too.
“Alright.” Beau set the bottles he'd gathered on the bedside table. He pulled over the stool he'd carried in from the garage. “Sit here.”
Colt eyed it, cushioned and backless, and fisted his hand in Beau’s comforter. “But this is comfy. What if I lay on my stomach and—”
“And aggravate your bruises? No.” Beau patted the stool. “Sit.”
“Fine.” Colt sighed and did as he was told, settling with his back straight. “But I'd like to lodge a formal complaint.”
Beau snorted. “Noted.” He turned the stool until Colt was facing away from the bed and settled on the edge himself, and maybe it wasn't so bad, actually, because Beau bracketed Colt with those thighs he wanted to do all sorts of things to, and being surrounded by Beau felt safe.
Pathetic, maybe, but whatever. Pride had gone out the window weeks ago when it came to this particular man.
The cap of a bottle popped, and Toast meowed outside the door.
“You left my baby outside.”
“Oh, yours now, is he?” Beau set the bottle back down, and the room smelled like something herby. “Fine, you can clean his litter box tomorrow then.”
“You'd make an injured man clean a litter box? That's—” Colt gasped as Beau’s hand settled on his bruised side, the cold of the gel shocking enough to give him a burst of energy. “Fuck!”
“It'll warm up,” Beau murmured, his thumbs rubbing the gel into Colt's side in tight, circular motions. “Hold still.”
True to his word, the chill of the gel turned into a warmth that seeped deep into his skin and spread. The tension in his shoulders eased again, and it was a fight not to slump as the gel dulled the ache of the bruises, as Beau’s hands worked him over, sure and firm.
“Magnesium next.” Beau's voice was that low rumble Colt always felt in his toes, but with how close he was, with his legs bracketing Colt and his hands on him, Colt felt it everywhere.
The magnesium was a spray, the first hit on his lower back like a thousand tiny needles in his skin. He sucked in a breath and tried to squirm away, but Beau grabbed his hip to stop him. “Easy. It's just the salts working.” Beau's thumb stroked soothingly along his hip bone. “Breathe through it.”
The magnesium dried on his skin, lavender-scented and calming, and Beau moved to massage the area. Callouses and warmth and Beau's breathing close to his ear, and, fuck.
Beau must have been feeling the same thing, because his hands slid down Colt’s back and he leaned forward. His breath fanned across Colt’s shoulder, and his mustache brushed Colt’s skin right before Beau's lips pressed down. Beau kissed him again, lingering.
Sitting still was becoming increasingly difficult as Beau kissed him with more purpose, and Colt whined. Beau's hands wrapped around to his front. Colt leaned back into the pressure of his mouth, facial hair dragging along his skin as Beau trailed kisses up to his neck.
“Beau…” Colt shifted on the stool, and Beau dragged his hand to cup his pec and squeeze before moving up and gently guiding Colt’s jaw until Colt was facing him.
The kiss was unhurried, Beau's mouth sliding against his, one hand moving to his hip and pulling until Colt’s stool rolled so Colt’s back was against Beau’s chest. A hot tongue slid across his lips, and Colt opened eagerly for him, tasted Beau on his own tongue and groaned.
Thank fuck for the arnica and magnesium, because when Colt turned and climbed onto Beau's lap it hurt, but not enough to stop him. Beau grasped his thighs and kissed him again, welcoming Colt’s weight, huffing into his mouth, and it was hot and perfect and it hadn't been more than two days but Colt had missed him, missed this.
Missed the overwhelming way Beau kissed, the smell of his skin.
Whatever I want.
He knew what he wanted.
Colt settled his hands on either side of Beau’s neck and dragged them down, Beau's chest rising and falling unevenly under his palms. Beau didn't stop Colt as he kept moving down, as he paused to squeeze Beau’s stomach before slipping his fingertips into Beau’s waistband.
He could hardly get enough air to his lungs as Beau kept kissing him while Colt pushed against the front of Beau's sweats and felt the length of him, hard and thick.
Beau groaned and pushed himself into the contact of Colt’s hands, ground himself into the pressure and kissed him harder.
He was going to let Colt take care of him.
Finally. Fucking finally, and Colt slipped his hand inside.
He pressed his palm against the tip of Beau’s cock and Beau moaned, and Colt’s hips jerked forward, and—
“Ow! Fucking—no, wait.” Pain was still shooting up Colt’s side as Beau grabbed his wrist and stopped him and no, no, no. “I'm fine. I'm—Beau, please.”
Beau brushed another kiss against Colt’s mouth and pulled his hand out of his pants. “Colt, you're injured. We—”
“I don't care.” Colt tried to move his hand, but Beau's grip was iron, which would have been hot in almost any other circumstance. “I want to touch you. You promised. I can't—”
Interrupting his spiral with a kiss, Beau pressed his thumb into the underside of Colt’s wrist. “What are you afraid of?”
Afraid? He wasn't afraid, he was—
Oh.
Colt’s eyes burned as he pulled back and looked at Beau and bit his own lip. “I—”
He stopped.
“Talk to me.” Beau settled his other hand against Colt’s collarbone, spread against the base of his throat. Maybe it should have been threatening, but it felt grounding, and Colt leaned into the pressure.