Whit scowls at me until I push myself up, and we go to the shower. I turn it on, and I hear him strip his sheets.
“You do know that you should probably buy more sheets. Several more, in fact. I plan to do that multiple times a day,” I tease when Whit appears in the bathroom, his hair tousled, his hands on his hips.
He’s naked in front of me, and I love it. Those white stripes across his skin only making him sexier.
Fuck. I must love scars or some shit because this is really doing it for me.
“Wrap your arm,” he says, holding out a plastic bag.
“Yes, dad,” I say, and he helps me secure it, and then he points. “In the shower, Caleb. And don’t get your stitches wet.”
I roll my eyes but step inside, and then he’s right there behind me, pulling me into him, his hands splayed on my chest.
“Going to wash me too? Make sure I’m all nice and clean?” I ask with a small laugh, and Whit reaches around me for the soap and begins to lather me up, which is seriously the sweetest kind of torture.
“Do I get to wash you too?” I ask and reach behind me and grab onto his ass.
His cock is nuzzled nicely between my cheeks, and I have the strongest urge to lean forward and invite him to just fuck me. Hell, I’m already prepped, but I don’t get the chance because he turns me around and begins washing my front, his face set in severe concentration.
“You take this very seriously,” I tell him, and his dark eyes meet mine.
“There’s nothing wrong with being clean.”
“Nothing at all, especially when you’re the one cleaning me,” I say as he washes my cock with methodical precision.
“Come on now,” I grumble when he squats down and washes my legs.
“Now rinse,” he says, and I puff out a breath but turn obediently, rinsing the suds from my skin.
“Now my turn,” I tell him, and I hold out my hand for the soap.
“I am halfway done already,” he grumbles with narrowed eyes. He’s right. He is. Half of his body is already covered with suds.
I tilt my head and wiggle my fingers. “Now, Whit. Don’t rob me of this. I’ve wanted you naked for a decade. You wet and naked is in the top five hottest things I’ve ever seen. Let me touch you.”
He sighs and slaps the soap into my palm, and I take my time rubbing it over his smooth skin, making sure to spend time between his legs. A lot of extra time.
“God, you’re so fucking hot, dude,” I say, and then, despite huffing and tapping those fingers on his thighs nervously, his cock hardens, and I lick my lips.
“Took you long enough,” I say, and then I’m on my knees.
* * *
“I’d prefer you naked,” I tell Whit, and he huffs in mock-annoyance, pulling on a long-sleeved shirt instead and some track pants. I’m only clad in sweatpants. Didn’t even bother with underwear. Easier access for Whit if he gets any genius ideas.
“I would rather not.”
I want to pout but just follow him out to the couch and crawl on top of him, tugging his shirt up until his entire torso is exposed. I rest my face on his bare skin and sigh.
“Better.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Whit says but slips his hands through my hair anyways and turns on the TV. It plays in the background, and I only pay attention to it halfway. Whit’s not even looking at it. He’s reading his Kindle, his fingers lightly massaging my neck.
“What we doing this weekend?” I mutter against his skin. Then I scoot my head over a little to the right and bite down on his nipple.
He hisses and pinches me.
“Behave.”