both in the mirror. They were the same in some ways, profoundly different in others, and he loved every bit of the way they fit together. As he touched Nik, he watched his cock grow half-hard—a hint of interest, but there was the proof Nik was telling the truth.
They were both too weighed down, but touching like this was everything. Nik turned in his arms after a moment, and his bare hands dragged up Adam’s spine. “Do you have tattoos here?”
“Yes,” Adam murmured, and he leaned in to kiss the edge of Nik’s shoulder. “It’s a snake that winds around my spine, and tree branches across my shoulder blades.”
“Why?” Nik asked.
That question always made Adam laugh, and this time was no different. He hid his smile against Nik’s soft skin. “Because I like the way snakes look, and the branches were cool. None of my tattoos have any deeper meaning than that, if I’m being honest. Well, the scar does, but the rest were just things I thought looked badass.”
Nik chuckled, then leaned away to push his hand under the spray, and Adam could feel the steam coming off of it. They detached just long enough to step over the lip of the tub, and then they huddled together, chest-to-chest with Nik’s half-hard dick pressed to Adam’s thigh.
The water surrounded them, sluicing down in small imitation of cascading rivers, the curves of their tangled bodies creating rapids before it pooled to the tub floor. Adam let himself feel it until Nik pulled away to grab the soap, and he didn’t stop his lover from spreading lathered hands over every exposed inch of him until he felt like the ugly, beaten surface of him was washing away with the last remnants of the floral bubbles.
Nik let him return the favor, and then they took turns washing their hair before stepping out. Adam became aware that neither of them had spoken—and he was also aware that it wasn’t necessary. They had a ways to go to get back to where they were, and then a million more miles to get to where they needed to be, but they were starting now.
“Do you have plans today?” Adam wondered as they dressed in the bedroom. The floor was warm from the sun, and he felt a bit like a cat as he stretched and stood with flat, bare feet pressed to the heated wood.
“No. Well, phone calls. This has been never-ending phone calls,” Nik’s voice stopped as he tugged his shirt over his head, then ran fingers through his hair before pulling out a pair of jeans from his dresser.
Adam had sweats there he’d left behind, which were good enough, and Nik had plenty of t-shirts to spare. He stole the comb off Nik’s dresser and began to work on his tangled locks. “No students or anything? I hope they were cool with you taking time off.”
The pointed silence after meant something. He could feel it.
After a beat, Nik sighed. “I’ve been…dismissed from my private students as well.”
The comb clattered to the floor, and Adam scrambled for it as he let the reality of that situation sink in. “Wait, did she…?”
“Yes,” Nik told him with a sigh. He moved to his bed, finding it with stretched fingers before turning to sit and slipping into socks. “Miss Peters spoke to the other parents and delivered an email to me the morning of the funeral stating that they felt their children were no longer morally safe under my instruction.”
“That fucking…” Adam started, his rage a palpable, tangible thing.
Nik lifted his hand to stop his words. “It’s not worth it.”
The fatigue in his voice struck Adam, and his anger softened to a low simmer as he lowered himself next to the other man. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Nik confessed. “Teaching was never the plan, but…” He shrugged, tipping his head downward. “I’ll have time to think—to figure it out. Van and I still want to sell the house, and I’ll have savings from that. And my father had life insurance. I’m not going to be homeless. Just a little lost.”
Adam took his hand, lifting it to his mouth, and he pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist. “What would you have done? If none of this happened?”
Nik’s laugh was soft, a little sweet but for his grief. “I don’t know. Found somewhere to play my piano where it mattered. But I’ve been gone too long.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Adam argued.
Nik