Page 111 of The Wounded Warrior

The immediate thing that came to mind was,I live for this shit, but what came out was, “Sounds like a plan.”

“Cool.” Luke held his hands up to the spray. “I like your shower better, though.”

“Where we can sit together, you mean?”

“Mmmhmm. So easy to ride that way.”

His face went hot and he told himself to stop it. He was going to be shy now? Seriously? He was the king of innuendo, of flirting, and Luke had seen every inch of him, for God’s sake.

“You okay, babe? I’m sorry. Too soon, right?” Luke did understand PTSD. That could come in handy.

“I’m fine. Just being a dipshit.” Just hurting, like the attack had happened yesterday, which it hadn’t. It was long over. Years.

He would give anything at all not to have opened that video file.

“Hand me the soap,” Luke said. “I can help.”

He hoped so. Rory hoped Luke’s touch would wash away what he hadn’t been able to. Maybe Luke could get his head back on right. God knew Rory loved the man.

“You’re all scratched up.”

“I was dirty.”

Luke nodded. “I know it felt that way. After the explosion, when I was all bloody and not all of it was mine… I obsessed about getting clean to the point where the nurses avoided me, not wanting to have to scrub.”

“Yeah? I just… I didn’t remember. It was better.”

“I bet. A terrible thing was done to you. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. For real.” Luke soaped up both hands and started at his chest, washing him with easy, circular motions.

“No shit. I never want to see it again.” He knew he’d have to, to put those bastards in jail, but that didn’t mean he wanted to.

“I’m with you the whole way, Rory. You’re not alone. Not one bit.” Luke scrubbed his belly and hips, then his cock, just a washing, nothing else. “Turn around.”

He turned, laughing softly when Luke kissed the small of his back. “No tramp stamp.”

“Nope. Just this surprisingly delicate skin.” Luke reached around to wash the fronts of his legs, cheek against his spine.

“I love you. I feel like…” He took a deep breath. “Well, to be honest, I don’t know what I feel like. I always know what to do next. Always.”

“This was a huge shake-up.” Luke paused for a long moment. “It might be psychobabble, but I bet this took you back to being nineteen for a while. To that freaked-out kid.”

“For a while? Sometimes I swear I’m twelve years old, standing in front of the high school and wishing God would just rescue me.”

Luke washed his back, scrubbing in long strokes. “Was it really scary? It had to be. I know when I went to basic I was sick for a week.”

“I always knew I was weird. This just drilled it in. It wasn’t until law school that it stopped. There, no one cared. I was just another thing to chew up and spit out. Walking into that high school, knowing my balls hadn’t even dropped yet, and I’d have to take gym class with seniors? That was hell on earth.”

“Jesus.” Luke moved down to his butt, and he thought maybe those fingers lingered a little. “I never even thought of that.”

“Yeah. Johnny was there after that first gym class. He glared at that little pod of fuckers in the showers, picked the biggest one and kicked him right in the nuts.” Rory grinned, then started chuckling. “He told me that his daddy said that was the secret to a good and peaceful life. Pick the biggest asshole, beat the fuck out of him, and move on.”

Luke laughed out loud, squeezing Rory’s butt cheeks playfully. “That sounds like Preacher. Seems like you took it to heart, too. Still doing it now.”

“It’s worked well. Never let it be said I can’t learn a lesson.”

“Well, learn this, Rory McConnell. I love you.”

He turned so he could meet Luke’s eyes. “I know. I didn’t run from you. I ran from me.”

---