Page 36 of Troy

“Christ, if that’s what it feels like to kiss a woman with lipstick, I’m damn glad I’m gay.” I shudder then stand up. “Okay, I’m going to start with your hair, it’s pretty matted, but I’ll keep away from the shaved part and the sutures. Tell me if it hurts and we can stop for a rest.”

Troy nods and takes a deep breath, “I’m ready.”

For the next thirty minutes or so, I work his body systematically, washing and drying each section as I go. “How you doing, baby?” Troy has been quiet for the most of it, he flinched at some extra tender spots but hasn’t complained or asked me to stop. My heart pounds furiously as the strength of my love and admiration for this beautiful man grows stronger and deeper. But the question of how he can still love me gnaws away at me.

“Stop overthinking things, Raff, you’re going to give yourself an aneurism and then we’ll both be stuck in here. I love you, stop doubting me.” Troy holds on to my hip, keeping his broken arm away from the water, and his fingers tighten on my skin, stronger than I would expect from him in this state.

Finally, I’m done. “There you go, Troy, all clean.” I step back, ready to help him stand. I’m not sure how to get his splint on—I’ll have to call the nurse for that—but, when I look at him, he’s got an impish smirk and dark eyes. “What? What’s that look for?”

“Er, well, I’m sat here in soaked-through underwear and I’m sure I need cleaning around there, too.” He winks, Troy fucking winks at me.

“Fine, but no funny ideas. Lift up.” I bring his wet briefs down his legs and feast on the sight of his impressive junk. Grabbing a clean wash cloth, I briskly soap and rinse him, keeping my eyes away from his face because I know he’s laughing at me.

“Come on, love, it’s not going to explode in your hands, well, not yet anyway.”

“You are a pest, Troy Ballantyne, don’t tease me.” Then, drying his groin, I smile, “All done, babe.”

I help him up and realize he’s not going to be able to walk, “How did you get in here, Troy?”

“A wheelchair, I don’t know where it is now.” Troy scans around for it.

“No problem.” Bending down, I lift him carefully in my arms and carry him back to his bed. I can tell the shower has tired him out when he sighs as he lays back down. Moments later he is asleep.

“Just listen to me for a minute. For fuck’s sake, Rafferty, I’m fine! I want this, I need this.” Troy pleads with me but it’s not going to work.

“No! You haven’t been cleared by the docs yet. You will have to wait.” I chuckle as he flops back down on our bed. Troy has been home for a week and most of the bruises have faded, the last of the stitches are due out in two days’ time. His arm will be in a cast for another four weeks, but his knee is the main problem; it will take a long time to build the strength back up. Ben is set to take over his rehab as soon as the hospital signs him off, which should be sometime this week. But this argument is over sex, and there is no way I’m fucking him like this. Although my balls and dick hate me right now, the doctor hasn’t given him the all clear.

“Okay, fine, I’ll concede to that, if I get a blowjob. How about that? I’ll suck you, too, you can even go first.” Troy moans and I can’t stop the huge guffaw of laughter but my dick throbs and swells at the thought of Troy’s lips and steamy mouth encasing it. “See, you like the sound of that.” Troy reaches across and cups my balls, squeezing and rolling them in his hand.

Damn, I’m ruined!

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