Page 13 of Nothing To Lose
And then, because there is no God and I must have strangled kittens for a living in a past life, my feet get caught in the pants on the floor around my ankles. I trip, then overcorrect, and almost fall ass over head. Isaac, my knight in grey sweatpants, swoops in and catches me before I fall face first on the shiny tile floor and need more stitches. Or, you know, break my dick. My dick that is very obviously trying to escape through the front of my Calvins and is no longer hidden behind my hands. Hands that are now gripping the strongest set of shoulders I've ever touched. The only thing distracting me from my mortification is the spasm of pain that shoots through my entire body. My bruised ribs feel like I've been kicked all over again, the stitches on the back of my thigh pull sharply, and the motion of the fall and subsequent save rattled my already aching brain.
I suck in a sharp breath, and he pulls me against him.
Despite the agony I'm in, my first concern is that he's going to notice my boner and drop me on the tile floor. But, if he does notice, he doesn't say anything, just stands me upright and holds onto me. I shuffle to put space between us even as I lean into him for stability.
Fuck, that really hurts.
"Shit, your stitches are bleeding. Are you okay if I take a look?"
Sure, why not. It's not like this could get any more embarrassing.
He chuckles, and I take it back. Nervously chattering my inside thoughts out loud definitely makes it worse.
After walking me closer to the shower, he has me lean on the wall while he adjusts the temperature of the water. The amount of steam in the room is proof enough he wasn't kidding about the water getting hot. He grabs a washcloth and holds it under the spray, then moves into my space again.
"Turn around for me?"
Grateful that I'll at least be turned away from him, I do as he asks, holding my breath as he lowers himself behind me.You have to be fucking kidding me.Seriously, is he doing this on purpose? I almost hope he's getting some kind of sick thrill out of my abject terror and mortification that he might see my very involuntary reaction to his proximity, because otherwise my karmic punishment is wasted.
He gently touches the wound on the back of my thigh. The line of stitches is jagged and about two and a half inches long, starting just under the crease of my right buttock. It's tender, and luckily for me, the pain distracts me from my situation a little.
"I don't think you tore anything, just stretched the wound a bit," he tells me, standing up again.
I turn around, but keep my back to the tile, feeling like I've hit a wall, literally and figuratively. I'm just so tired.
"You're all wet now," I observe. Isaac's tank is plastered to his chest and flat abs, and there are wet spots bleeding into the knees of his sweats.
"No biggie, come here."
Too tired to argue, or feel shy anymore, I comply and let him support me while leading me to the shower spray. He hands me a washcloth, squirts some body wash on it, then reaches for another bottle. I let out a little squeak of surprise when he starts gently massaging shampoo into my hair, but practically melt against him because it feels so damn good.
When he's done and I move my head under the spray to rinse, he takes the washcloth from me and washes my back, then down my legs to my feet. If he notices my dick straining through soaking wet white underwear that are sure to be see-through by now, he doesn't show it. He just keeps washing me, careful of my various cuts and bruises. When I'm finally clean, he turns off the water and wraps me in a towel before turning away from me and stripping out of his now drenched clothes. I'm not expecting it, and nearly gag out loud at the sight of his muscular back and butt. Holy hell that butt, it's like his cheeks were chiseled from stone.
No! Look away, Tyler!
Clenching my eyes shut tight, I face away from him to give him extra privacy.
"You alright?"
Instead of opening my mouth to speak, I just nod, peeking one eye open to make sure he's decent.Barely.He's wrapped a towel around his waist, but there's still entirely too much skin on display. Deep tan skin, with dark tendrils of ink across his chest and both arms. They accentuate the curve of his pecs and biceps. His tight muscles glisten with water droplets that follow the grooves of more abs than I knew a person could have. And as I suspected, a thick barbell through each nipple.
I pull my towel tighter around myself and try not to let it be too obvious that I'm staring. But seriously… Who has a body like that? It's unreal.
"What are you thinking about so hard over there?" He asks, picking up a stack of clothes.
"That maybe I should start working out."
Isaac barks out a laugh, the sound echoing off the walls. It makes me smile, even if the laugh is at my expense.
He holds up the stack of clothes for me to see. "These will probably be not much better than the scrubs as far as size, but they're super soft. They're my favorite pair, actually," he says, holding up a pair of light grey sweatpants. "And there's a t-shirt, socks, and boxers. They’re clean, but I totally understand if you don't want to wear those. They're probably too big, too."
Once again, I'm blinking at him like an absolute idiot. "Why are you doing all this?"
"All what?"
"Taking care of me. Being so nice… You don't even know me." Ugh, I hate that my voice sounds so broken and feeble.
"It seemed like you could use a little support," he says simply, like it’s the most normal thing in the world to take care of someone you don’t know like this.
