Walking Wounded

by Lee Rowan

  He tried to draw back as Kevin rocked against him more urgently. “Bed?”

  “Why?”

  Good question. Why bother? They’d get there eventually, and he was so fuzzy with champagne and hot with this beautiful man in his arms that he just let it all flow. Kevin was back. He was staying. Forever now, thought you were dead, oh God I love you love you love you—

  John slumped against Kevin’s shoulder and heard him say, “Looks as though it’s laundry time,” and startled Kevin by picking him up bodily and staggering off to the bedroom.

  KEVIN FOUND himself being nudged awake by something bumping into his face. He ignored it as long as he could—he didn’t want to wake up yet—but it wouldn’t stop. Finally he batted at the irritation and felt fur… and heard a faint rumbling.

  He opened one eye to see Emma’s pink nose and mad baby eyes only an inch away, one tiny paw raised to pat his chin once more. “Look, you little pest—” She squeaked a response, and he guessed it must be breakfast time, whether he liked it or not.

  He didn’t much feel like moving, with Johnny curled comfortably against his back, but as he surrendered to the inevitable and began to stretch, he realized he was still wearing his shoes.

  And his jeans. And everything else. And Horatio was chewing on his shoelaces. “Oh, for God’s sake,” Kevin said. One bottle of champagne split between them shouldn’t have knocked them both flat. But it had been a long day, up early and home late, and that last enthusiastic shag in the kitchen had just done him in. He remembered Johnny dumping him onto the bed, then snuggling up beside him—and nothing beyond that.

  But, amazingly, he had slept through the night, and without nightmares. He hadn’t wakened in a panic when the kitten nudged him. And even though he hadn’t been able to sleep in as long as he’d have liked, he actually felt rested. “Johnny?”

  John pulled a pillow over his head and muttered something negative.

  “Your cats are starving, you lazy sod. And we need a shower.” Kevin stripped out of his jeans and went into the kitchen to deal with the clamoring throng. He started water for tea, had a quick shave, and caught the pot just as the whistle began to sing. Eggs and sausage, that sounded like a good start.

  When he got back, John was snoring. Kevin watched him for a moment, teetering between affection and exasperation. Adopting those cats had been Johnny’s idea, after all, but who was it getting up to feed them? And there was another chore that went with cats—the dreaded litter pan. “Fair enough, chum,” he said. “If I have to feed them, you know who’s assigned to latrine duty.”

  No response from the insensate lump. Exasperation got the upper hand. “John, it’s nearly nine a.m. Wakey-wakey.” He rolled Johnny over, unzipped his lover’s jeans, pulled off his shoes, and had him bare-assed before he knew what was going on.

  “Kevin, what the hell—?”

  “Time to get up!” Kevin pulled off his own shirt and tugged at John’s cotton sweater, dragging it up and over his head. “We’re filthy, and you have work to do.”

  “We don’t have to get up immediately, do we?” John caught hold of him, pulling him down and wrapping his legs around Kevin’s. “I thought you said we were going to sleep in.”

  “I’ve been up for hours.” Kevin thought a bit of exaggeration was fair, all things considered. “I don’t know why those little beggars pick on me to feed them—you’re their mummy.”

  “What?” John wriggled against him suggestively. “Does that feel like a mother cat?”

  If they hadn’t both been so grubby, Kevin might’ve succumbed. “It feels like we need a shower. I stink, and so do you. And then we hit the books.”

  “Together?” John asked hopefully. He was really too damned alluring, still sleepy-eyed and tousled, with a faint shadow of beard coming in.

  “The books? Sure, I said I’d help you study.”

  “No, the shower.” John rubbed his face against Kevin’s chest. “Mmm. You do smell.” He nuzzled the side of Kevin’s neck, sending a shiver through him. “You smell sexy. I like it.” There was a purr in his voice that reminded Kevin of the kittens. And given another minute, Johnny would get his way, just as they had done.

  But Kevin knew perfectly well that if they dove back into the blankets, they might stay there all day, and even though he would have preferred to do exactly that, he knew John was just avoiding his textbooks. “Up,” he said, rolling away with regret. “Duty calls. After you’ve passed that exam with flying colors, we can stay in bed till noon if you like.”

  “Are you trying to bribe me with sexual favors?” John demanded.

  “Damn, you’re perceptive. And I’ve got something new… while you took the kittens to the vet, I went out and found a new lube that’s supposed to be waterproof. Thought it might be fun to try in the shower.” He gathered up the dirty clothes and headed for the bathroom, dropping them in the laundry basket on the way.

  “If it’s waterproof, how do you wash it off?” John asked, tagging along behind him.

  “Soap.”

  “Ah.” John ducked into the tiny stall and started the water, adjusting the taps until it was comfortable. “Come on in, love. Got your goodies?”

  “Yeah, and the lube, too.” Kevin had also brought some shower gel along from his old place, lemon-scented stuff that had always reminded him of the summer he and John had lived together. It would be pleasant here in the summer, with the ocean breeze blowing cool air in off the water.

  In the meantime, he put the containers on the built-in shelf so he could give his full attention to Johnny. They washed each other’s hair first—always easier to have that out of the way. The showerhead was barely high enough to do the job, and Kevin kept banging his elbows on the translucent walls. “This stall was designed for pygmies, wasn’t it?”

  “It was designed for one pygmy,” Johnny said. “C’mere.” He pulled Kevin close so their foreheads touched, and angled him under the water. “Hold still.”

  As Johnny’s fingers worked the shampoo into his scalp, Kevin relaxed. This had to be heaven. John tipped his head back just a little more and began kissing him, slowly and carefully, as if they had all the time in the world, tongue sliding between Kevin’s lips in a teasing way. His hands wandered off for a moment, and then Kevin caught the tang of lemon as John started washing his back, from the neck down, long circular swirls on either side of his spine, all the way down to his bum. Touching but not gripping… just enough to start a slow burn.

  And in front, of course, his cock was rubbing against John’s in that same gentle, tantalizing rhythm. He was just starting to put a little effort into the movement when John moved his kisses to the side of Kevin’s neck, easing him around under the shower spray.

  Kevin gasped as the water spattered against his chest and belly, and again when John reached around and began soaping him in front, from the throat down. It wasn’t really necessary to wash his nipples so thoroughly, but damn, it felt good.

  As Johnny’s hands moved down his chest and lower, Kevin reached behind himself to grip his lover’s thighs. He had to touch John somewhere; it would’ve been against their unwritten rules for Kevin to touch himself and hurry things along. So he held on to John and let his head drop back, enjoying the promise of that hot cock along the cleft of his arse and the knowing hands in front, as Johnny lathered him up all the way down to his balls. And finally, when he was just about ready to scream, that warm, wet hand closed around his cock.

  “You ready?” John murmured.

  Kevin couldn’t manage anything more coherent than a long, drawn-out groan. He let go of John long enough to fumble for the lube and get some of it out of the tube and into himself. It would’ve been easier if John had stopped what he was doing, but he had the rhythm and it was worth any inconvenience to keep that long, slow glide of pleasure.

  Then he felt Johnny’s fingers slip in from behind. He bent forward, bracing himself against the side of the stall and hoping it would hold. He relaxed as John pr
essed into him, letting his body open to take that hot, smooth shaft. The water, the scents, the moisture rising all around him…. Kevin loved the rough-and-tumble of sex in bed—or on the sofa, or up against the kitchen wall. There wasn’t any kind of sex with Johnny he didn’t enjoy. But if he had to pick a favorite, it would be the full sensory delight of making love in the shower.

  Not that he had time to consider the matter so coherently. It wasn’t until he felt Johnny holding him almost still with an arm around his waist that he realized the shower stall was actually starting to shake with the force of their movements. But he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t, he was so close—and then he was there, over the edge, as Johnny thrust into him one final time and his own body shuddered with release.

  They stood there panting for a few seconds. Then Kevin turned in Johnny’s arms and kissed him again, too out of breath to speak.

  “Anorexic pygmies,” John said finally. “Too flimsy for us to do anything but have a wash without destroying the plumbing. We need to find a better bathroom, Kev.”

  “I’ll call the estate agent while you’re taking that exam,” Kevin agreed. He brushed his lips against Johnny’s very gently. “Now, if I’m not mistaken, you have an appointment with a statistics review. You go organize your books while I fry us up some breakfast.”

  “Slave driver.”

  “Absolutely. How do you want your eggs?”

  Chapter 10

  “KEVIN!” JOHN propped his bicycle in the narrow space under the stair. He caught himself, surprised at the echo from his shout, then realized the other tenants probably weren’t home at three in the afternoon anyway, so he galloped up the three flights without worrying about the noise. “Kevin! I passed!”

  Kevin looked up from the card table they’d crammed into one corner of the living room. “Brilliant! How do you know?”

  “Professor Krieger grades exams on the spot for graduating seniors. There were only three of us.” He leaned over Kevin, managing a quick hug and a peek at the estate listings spread across the table. “It hasn’t sunk in yet that I’m through with classes, but I’ll cope. Anything promising?”

  “A few. How did you do? Did you keep your head on the confidence intervals?”

  “I did! And I aced standard deviations. I left off everything about our nonstandard sort.” That earned him a grin and a kiss. “I totally screwed up on the type-one, type-two errors. That was the worst of it, though, and there wasn’t much of that anyway. I won’t graduate with high honors, but it should be cum laude. This was the hardest class I ever took.” He looked around for the kittens, who were nowhere to be seen. “Have you fed the wild creatures?”

  “I did, yes. They were chasing each other around like maniacs until I rattled the kibble. They’re sleeping it off now.”

  “Thanks.” John poured himself a glass of water and glanced around, slightly hungry. “Apple?”

  “Sure.”

  “So what’ve you found?” John asked as he ducked into the fridge and snagged a pair of apples. He brought them over, putting one down on the papers and rubbing his free hand along Kevin’s back. He enjoyed the feel of Kevin’s muscles under the light sweater. Every time John touched him, it was a wonderful living proof of what had been restored to him.

  “Mmm.” Kevin leaned into the caress and let his head drop back; John leaned down to kiss him. After a moment, Kevin disengaged and said, “Two that look fairly standard—they might be worth checking. But there’s one I think we should see right away. It has a lease with option to buy after the first year.”

  “That sounds pretty permanent.” John frowned at the listing, which didn’t seem to have that information included.

  “No commitment for a year, though—and that should be enough time for us to see if we want to stay here. I called the estate agent’s and looked at a few pictures on their website. It’s a townhouse, belongs to an older couple who got tired of Portsmouth winters and moved to Spain. They wanted to hedge their bets in case they can’t get used to all that lovely warm weather, so they decided not to sell immediately. Whoever rents it gets first refusal on buying in a year’s time.” He crunched into the apple. “If it’s as good as it sounds, I think we’ll like it.”

  “What’s the attraction?”

  Kevin glanced up, teasing. “Let’s just look at it first. I’d like to see what you think. If we want it, though, we’ll need to jump on it. I’ve made an appointment with the agent.”

  “Today?”

  “In half an hour, if you’re up for it.”

  John sighed. “I was hoping to be up for something else—” And he would be later, no doubt. But Kevin seemed to be up to something himself. His eyes were bright with anticipation and his excitement was contagious. “All right, let’s go.”

  They drove, although they probably could have made it on foot in half an hour. The property had a tiny one-car garage included at the back and a smallish garden. “I like it so far,” John said. “But the rent is steep.”

  “A bit more than twice what you’re paying,” Kevin said. “I know, it is high. But there’ll be two of us paying. And if we were to buy, they’d let us apply half the rent toward a down payment. It could be a great investment, Johnny.” He nodded at the figure in a trench coat standing at the front steps. “There’s the agent, I think.”

  The agent, a middle-aged blond woman, introduced herself as Mrs. Bell and let them into the place. Like so many townhouses, it was narrow, sandwiched between two similar buildings. Its tiny vestibule had an archway to the left into what looked like a living room, with a hall to the right and a stairway against the far right wall. “The kitchen is at the back,” she said, leading them in. “It’s an open floor plan from the kitchen through to the living room. I think the owners made very clever use of the space.”

  They had indeed. The place had been remodeled with an eye to function without trying to modernize it too far. The kitchen and dining room took up the rear half of the ground floor, and in the dining room, a set of sliding doors opened to a view across a small deck and into the back garden. Toward the front, the dining area flowed into the bright, high-ceilinged living room, where a wide front window looked onto the street.

  “The owners did most of the upgrading themselves,” Mrs. Bell said. “He’s a retired builder. I suppose this was his busman’s holiday.”

  “Nice,” Kevin said, and John had to agree. He didn’t think much of the mushroom design all over the kitchen wallpaper, but he had been Gran’s paint-and-paper man for the last eight years of her life. He could deal with wallpaper easily enough. The kitchen was, all by itself, nearly as big as their current flat’s living room, and a tiny powder room had been tucked into a corner by the dining room. That would be handy if they had friends over. And to top it all off, beside the powder room was a combination washer-dryer. The place really had everything they could have hoped for.

  “There’s a cellar too,” Mrs. Bell said. “Nothing special, and it’s a bit dusty, so it would be best to see upstairs first—” Her handbag suddenly burst into a tinny version of the “Ride of the Valkyries.” “Oh, sorry, I meant to mute my phone.”

  “Why don’t you take your call?” Kevin suggested as she fished the device out of her handbag. “We can have a look upstairs by ourselves.”

  “Thanks, dear.”

  He smiled at her and nodded toward the stair. “What do you think so far?” he asked as they ascended.

  “I like it,” John said. “More posh than I’m used to, of course. We don’t really need anything this fancy, do we?”

  “Need? No. But if we were to buy it and then move after a few years, I’m sure we could sell for a profit, or even lease it out ourselves. Here’s the master bedroom.”

  The owners had done a decent job. The room had a snug double-pane window that would keep out the street noises. It also had an alcove that had probably been intended either as a nursery or a maid’s room, a tiny space only about three meters by two. The other bedroom, at t
he back, was about the size of the first, but its window overlooked the garden.

  “I think I’d rather use this as our room,” John said. “It would be quieter—and we could use the other as office space or a guest room.” But he was still not convinced they needed it. There was no way he’d be able to carry his full share of the expense of a two-story house.

  “Here’s what I wanted to show you,” Kevin said. “The owner… well, he wasn’t a builder, exactly—”

  Kevin opened the door to what had to be the bath, and John laughed in delight as he stepped inside. “They liked their mod cons, didn’t they?”

  “Either that, or he tested new products here. Mrs. Bell told me his business was selling and installing plumbing fixtures. This is why the rent’s so steep. It’s a masterpiece, isn’t it? The online pictures didn’t do it justice.”

  The bathroom was a sybarite’s delight, done in tones of blue and white that reminded him of a sunny day at the seashore. Tiny, irregular tiles on the floor mimicked the look of a pebbly beach. Instead of a tub across one side of the room, there was a corner spa tub with room enough for two to sit, and whirlpool jets inside it. Between tub and shower was a towel-warming rack, and the shower itself—what a project that must have been! One side of it curved around, with the entire surface inside and out covered in tiny iridescent glass tiles.

  John stepped inside, amazed at the effect. It was beautiful, like being inside a seashell. “No door?”

  “Look at the design,” Kevin said. “With the shower head where it is, all the water stays inside. You don’t need a door, or even a curtain. It’s the same idea as the one in the gym back at the training center, only smaller and a lot more private.”

  They had often fantasized about making use of the gym shower back in officers’ training, but neither of them was an exhibitionist; common sense or cowardice had kept them from ever actually attempting it. But here—this little grotto had plenty of room for both of them, and even a couple of handy grab bars.