around us like a veil, giving us a secret space only he and I can share. “You aren’t a bad person. You have this…extraordinary heart.” I gently place my hand over his left pec, loving the strong beat against me. “You wouldn’t be who you are if you weren’t mourning them. You can be sad. You’re sad for who they used to compared to who they are because who they were, you didn’t recognize them. I don’t blame you for needing to be sad about losing your parents.”
“Do you think I’m weak for not getting there sooner and killing them myself?” he asks, staring numbly at the tile.
“I could never think you are weak.”
“I killed those guards…”
Owen said he would feel bad.
“And I bet if they would have seen you, they would have killed you in an instance.” I squeeze body wash on the loofah and glide it over his shoulders. “You are unlike anyone I’ve ever met. You still find a reason to cry for someone, even when they aren’t worth your tears, that’s a rare thing to see in a person.”
“It’s weakness.”
I move from behind him and stand in front of his body. “Not once are you weak. Do you know how strong it is to admit your feelings? To understand them? To not hide them away? You are so entuned with yourself and I’m jealous. It takes a special amount of strength to realize it’s okay to be sad about a life ending, especially when you know those people didn’t always lead a bad life.” I wash his chest, then his arms, then drop to my knees to get the lower half of his body.
Even through the turmoil, his cock manages to get hard. I know he doesn’t expect anything to happen, but I have this overwhelming urge to make him feel good. I want him to relax. I want him to feel a small amount of peace and I know I’m about to be bad at it but it’s the effort that counts, right?
I drag the loofah across his shaft and he hisses, then I drop down to his balls and clean those too. I reach up and grab the showerhead, unhooking it from the wall, and spray him off, letting the water pellet against his erection.
He tosses his head back, the tendons on the back of his neck pop out, and he rolls his hips. “That…that feels good. You don’t have to. I’m not expecting this kind of treatment. I was only kidding before, baby. I don’t deserve—”
“You deserve to feel good.” I lay my hand on his shoulder and run the showerhead over the sensitive shaft. He whimpers, lolling his head to the side when I hit a certain spot between his sack and the base of his cock.
“Oh, fuck,” he moans from the pressure plummeting his thick muscle and being to rock his hips back and forth, naturally seeking friction that air and water can’t give. He slips two fingers between my legs and finds my clit easily and begins to rub slow, agonizing circles over the most erotic part of me. “This is how it feels. It’s like the best fucking thing I’ve ever felt, but at the same time, it isn’t enough. I need more, but I don’t want the pressure to stop,” he admits.
I toss the showerhead to the side and fall to my knees which has his fingers out of reach from my center. I fist his cock and stroke, loving the weight of him in my hand. I lean forward and his eyes widen when he realizes what I’m doing and he grips the edge of the bench. His jaw drops open and my mouth isn’t even touching the tip yet.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispers under his breath as I get closer. “You don’t have to feel like you owe me this or anything. I…I…Oh, god,” his eyes roll back and he finally shuts up when I suck the helmet into my mouth. I take my time, trying to figure out the best way to go about doing this so it feels the best for him. I know teeth would hurt, because, logic.
I keep my lips wrapped around my teeth, suck in a breath and hollow my cheeks as I sink down. My mouth is stretched as wide as I can and when he hits the back of my throat, there is still a few inches of him to take, but I can’t do it. I slide off,