Page 81 of Ruin
Okay.
My eyes fall closed as it echoes in my mind, and a smile crosses my lips.
He’s agreed.Finally.
I lean down to kiss him, his lips soft and warm. I linger for just a moment before getting to my feet, my semi-hard dick slipping out of him.
“Let’s shower.” I offer him my hand, and he takes it without hesitation, so I lead him into the en suite bathroom. I’ve just finished the remodel of it and the shower is brand new. Spacious with three shower heads and plenty of room to move around.
I turn the water on and gather towels from the closet while I wait for it to heat. Kolton is covered in cum, the sweet muskyscent filling my nose. I’d love to drop to my knees and lick every drop from his body, but I need to take it easy with him. These moments, after being intimate, are very important. It’s when he’s the most likely to run, so I need to balance my neediness and give him space. Though in reality, this is Kolton, and he’ll react how he reacts regardless of what I do.
I take his hand and pull him into the shower with me once I see the steam fogging the glass doors. We stand under the spray and I run my hands through his hair to wet it before doing the same to mine.
“You’ve gotten a lot of tattoos,” I comment, reaching for the shampoo.
“Does that bother you?”
“Nothing about you bothers me, Kolton.”
I pour shampoo into my hand, then put the bottle back before bringing it to his head. I scrub his scalp, combing my fingers through his dark hair until I’m satisfied it’s clean, then I guide him under the water to rinse. His head cranes back, and I take the opportunity to look at the ink on his neck.
On the front of his throat is a butterfly, wings spread out. Along the sides of his neck and traveling down his chest are small flowers, all black and grey.
There are wings across his chest, some random shading to fill in empty spots, words in Latin that I don’t recognize. Roman numerals, some more flowers and butterflies. I’d mentioned it to him once, when he first got it, but he didn’t want to talk about it then. I’m sure he won’t want to talk about it now either.
Though a lot of this work is feminine, it fits him well as a masculine man.
The soap is rinsed from his hair, and my time to look over his tattoos is done. I’m sure there will be more opportunities to do so, and I plan to learn every inch of his skin, anyway. But this is about more than memorizing what’s there. I want to know the meaning behind each one, how old he was when he got them, where he got them, why he got them. I want to know everything. I’ve missed out on so much, and though I can never get that time back, I just want to know.
Kolton steps out from under the water, and I wash my own hair. He watches me the entire time without speaking a word. I place my hand against his cheek and lean in to kiss him when my hair is rinsed. He kisses me back, but I can tell part of him is still holding back. It feels almost unsure. When I pull back, I smile and huff out a laugh.
“What’s funny?” he asks.
“You’re so very different, yet so very much the same,” I comment as I put my hand on his hip and guide him closer to the wall where there isn’t a shower head raining down on us. I pump some soap into my hands and run my fingers along his abs to wash away the remaining cum that hasn’t already been rinsed off by the water.
“Wouldn’t that be easier with the sponge?” he asks as I drag my hands up his chest and over his shoulders.
“Yes,” I comment, bringing them back down. “But then I wouldn’t be able to touch you.”
His smirk is so small I almost miss it.
My hands move further down, gliding across his smooth skin with ease. I cup his balls to wash them, grip his dick to wash that too. I feel him harden in my hand, but I drop it before this can turn sexual.
“I just want to clean you,” I say, kissing his jaw. “I want to take care of you.”
I turn him around and work on his upper back, massaging and washing. I pump more soap into my hand, moving them over his shoulders, down his arms and along his middle and lower back.
Kolton has a bubbly ass that sticks out with perfectly round cheeks that I want to sink my teeth into. I carefully run my fingers through his crease to clean him. He groans, hole clenching when I brush over him. I can tell by the sounds it isn’t out of pain, but instead, pleasure.
So I do it again.
My chest warms, and my dick starts to harden again.
I wasn’t trying to make this sexual, but if he is… well, I won’t deny him.
I slip my fingers down more, brushing along his sac. His hands move up to press against the wall, but I grab them both and put them together against his back, holding both wrists with one hand and moving so his chest is against the tile.
“You’re a tease,” I whisper in his ear, pressing my front against him, letting him feel how hard he’s made me.
