by Andria Large
Gunnar swallows hard and licks his suddenly dry lips. Who is this guy? There is a fire inside of this Bowen that Gunnar hasn’t seen in him before. This Bowen gets his blood pumping, heart pounding, and cock hardening in his shorts.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re hot as fuck when you’re mad?” Gunnar asks him, his voice husky.
Bowen’s eyes darken slightly. “Is that all you got out of what I just said?”
“No, but I thought it should be brought to your attention,” he rasps, resisting the urge to grip Bowen up by his nice button down shirt and kiss the shit out of him.
He shakes his head slight. “You’re un-fuckin’-believable.”
“That’s what he said,” Gunnar quips with a wicked grin.
“Are you seriously flirtin’ with me right now? After everythin’ I just said to you, you’re going to just brush it aside and flirt with me?”
Gunnar gives him an innocent look, not knowing what to say. He heard what he said, but he’s having a hard time processing it right now because he doesn’t feel that way about himself.
Bowen steps back, a disgusted look now replacing the angry one. “Forget it. Be an asshole. Finish eating so we can go.”
Bowen returns to his seat and ignores him while Gunnar finishes his food. When Gunnar is done eating, they go out to Bowen’s very nice Audi R8. How Gunnar knows what kind of car it is, is beyond him. He can't fucking remember what a hat is but he can remember an Audi R8? He lets out a low impressed whistle and takes a walk around the sporty looking jet-black coupe while Bowen puts his laptop bag in the back seat. When he looks over at Bowen, he’s standing with the driver’s side door open, an arm resting on the door and the roof, looking rightfully cocky.
“Damn, dude. This is nice!”
He gives Gunnar a nonchalant shrug and nods toward the passenger side. “Get in.”
Opening the door, he has to gently lower himself into the seat. He feels like an old man as he tugs his door shut. It’s ridiculous. Bowen settles into the driver’s seat and turns the car on. Turning his head in Bowen’s direction, he’s blown away by how fucking sexy he looks behind the wheel. Not one piece of his sandy brown hair is out of place, his dark-framed glasses are resting comfortably on his straight nose, and his square jaw is clean-shaven today. The man is absolutely stunning.
He glances over at Gunnar. When he sees Gunnar staring at him, he cocks an eyebrow. “What?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you look sexy as hell sitting behind that wheel?” he asks huskily.
Bowen gives him an incredulous look. “You are so hot and cold. One minute you’re snappin’ at me, tellin’ me to mind my business and yelling at me about your head; the next, you’re tellin’ me I look hot when I’m mad, and sexy behind the wheel of my car. I don’t get you at all.” He shakes his head and turns away from Gunnar as he puts the car in reverse, backing out of the driveway.
Gunnar realizes very quickly that the car has a manual transmission. Oh, hello boner. His eyes are glued on Bowen as his foot taps the clutch while his right hand shifts. He never thought he’d be turned on by a guy driving, but holy fuck, he is so turned on right now.
“I can feel you starin’ at me,” Bowen grumbles, his eyes never leaving the road.
“Mmm hmm.” Gunnar hums.
“Can you stop? It’s annoyin’.”
Gunnar grins and reluctantly tears his eyes away from the gorgeous man sitting next to him. Bowen merges onto the highway, changes gears, and takes the fuck off. Gunnar’s thrown back in his seat, his stomach flipping over as they fly down the highway. He grabs the ‘oh shit’ handle above his door and lets out an excited whoop. He sneaks a peek at Bowen, finding him smirking. Show off.
Chapter Six
THE RIDE back to Griffin’s from physical therapy is filled with Gunnar’s groans and hisses. He's obviously in a lot of pain. Bowen caught bits and pieces of what they were making him do and they sure as shit weren’t taking it easy on him. Not once did he complain though; he did everything they asked and then some. That's Gunnar for you. I've always admired that about him.
Back at the house, he parks in the driveway, turns the car off, then quickly gets out to help Gunnar. He had trouble getting in after physical therapy because he’s hurting and the car is low to the ground. Bowen opens the car door for him and holds out his hand. Gunnar smacks it away.
“Get the fuck outta here. I can get out on my own,” he grunts wearily.
“Stop being so stubborn and let me help you. I can tell that you’re in pain.”
“So? I can do it myself.”
“You sound like a petulant two year old,” Bowen huffs in annoyance.
“Fuck off.”
Bowen steps back, hands up in surrender. “Okay, fine. Have it your way.”
It takes a couple tries, but he eventually gets out of the car, his face twisting in agony. Bowen walks with him at his snail’s pace in case he falls. Once they’re in the house, Gunnar heads straight for the hallway that leads to the bathroom and bedrooms.
“I’m gonna take a shower. I fuckin’ stink,” he mumbles.
“I would ask if you want me to help but I already know the answer, so okay then. Shout if you need anythin',” Bowen replies and takes his laptop bag to the table with him.
He waves in a “Yeah, okay” type of way and disappears into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
Bowen sets up his laptop then grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge. Just as he’s about to sit down, he hears a loud thud come from the bathroom followed by Gunnar cursing up a storm. Bowen drops the water bottle on the table and rushes to the bathroom door and knocks.
“Gunnar, are you all right?” he calls through the door.
The cursing continues without Gunnar answering. Taking his chances on being verbally torn apart, Bowen opens the door and steps into the bathroom. The water is running and the shower curtain is drawn. He moves over to the tub and partially draws back the curtain so the water doesn’t go all over. He frowns when he sees Gunnar on his hands and knees in the tub, his head hanging down, and the water beating on his back.
“Gunnar, what happened?” Bowen asks gently.
“My knees gave out,” he whispers.
“All right, come on. Let me help you,” Bowen says as he switches the shower off and plugs the bathtub, keeping the water running so it will fill. “Sit down.”
Gunnar drops down to rest his ass on his heels. Bowen grabs him under his arm and helps him up to a sitting position, where he is able to pull his feet out from under him. He crosses his legs, Indian style, and then uses his hands to wipe the water from his eyes. Bowen can tell by the look on his face that he’s totally mortified right now, but that’s too fucking bad. He needs help; that’s the whole point of Bowen being here.
Bowen hands him the bar of soap. “You wash the front while I wash your hair.”
Gunnar takes the soap from him and does what he’s told without comment. As he starts washing his arms and chest, Bowen grabs the bottle of shampoo and pours some in his hand then sets the bottle down on the edge of the tub. Crouching down, he smooths it over Gunnar’s short hair and starts rubbing it in. Using his fingertips, he massages the shampoo into his scalp, being mindful not to linger on Gunnar's scar. No doubt, Gunnar would have a fit about it. His groan of pleasure lets Bowen know that he’s enjoying having someone else wash his hair. He gently runs his fingers over the raised scar and with it comes the fear and regret that he always feels. I almost lost him for good. He pushes it aside because now is not the time for that. Gunnar drops his chin to his chest and Bowen massages his neck a little bit. He can feel how tight his muscles are, so he tries to work out some of the knots.
“Fuck, that feels good,” Gunnar breathes, sending a jolt of lust straight to Bowen’s cock.
Dammit, this is not a good time to be getting turned on. Even though Gunnar has lost a significant amount of weight, Bowen is still thoroughly attracted to him. He’s thin but not
frail; he still has a little bit of muscle definition.
Gunnar rolls his shoulders and lifts his head. “You better stop before I get a hard on in front of you,” he murmurs, his hooded hazel eyes catching Bowen's.
Bowen swallows hard and gives him a terse nod. Not like he's never seen Gunnar naked before. It would be awkward right now because of the situation. Gunnar is in a weakened state and vulnerable. It wouldn’t be right to do anything other than help him.
They work together to rinse the shampoo out of Gunnar’s hair then Bowen washes his back while Gunnar washes the rest of his body. After he’s finished, Bowen pulls the plug and lets the tub drain while he grabs Gunnar a towel from the rack. When he turns back toward him, Gunnar’s already trying to get to his feet.
“Dammit, Gunnar. Wait for me, will you?” Bowen huffs.
He’s so impatient. Bowen grips Gunnar’s elbow and supports some of his weight as he gets to his feet.
“Step out onto the rug so you don’t slip,” he tells him.
Bowen tosses the towel over his shoulder so he can grab Gunnar’s other arm as he steps out of the shower. This gives Bowen a full frontal view of him. Fuck, he’s beautiful. All over. He fights hard against the erection threatening to tent his jeans. Gunnar pants heavily, his energy waning. Bowen hands him the towel and Gunnar does a half-assed dry job before wrapping the towel around his lean waist.
“Can you help me to my room? I need to lay down,” he mutters weakly.
“Of course,” Bowen replies and moves to stand next to him.
He drapes Gunnar’s arm around his shoulder so he can take most of his weight. Good thing they’re close to the same height because it makes this position much easier. They slowly and carefully make their way down the hall to Gunnar’s room. He helps him over to the bed, where Gunnar immediately lies down, yanks the towel off, and pulls the sheet up to cover himself. He closes his eyes and pulls in a deep breath.
“Do you need anythin' else?” Bowen asks quietly.
“No.” He shakes his head. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Just yell if you need anythin'.”
“I will,” he breathes, already sounding like he’s almost asleep.
Bowen watches him for a moment as his chest rises and falls, his breathing evening out as he dozes off. It’s funny how he can be so strong yet so helpless at the same time. I love that about him. Grabbing the towel he tossed on the floor, Bowen leaves him to rest. He hangs the towel up in the bathroom then goes into the living room so he can get back to work.
***
“So how was Gunnar’s physical therapy today?” asks Griffin, who is standing out on the back patio in front of the grill, cooking steaks. He got home from work about fifteen minutes ago and immediately started preparing things for dinner.
Using his index finger, Bowen pushes his glasses up his nose. He doesn’t know how much to tell Griffin. He doesn’t know what Gunnar would rather keep from him. “I think you should ask Gunnar that question. He’s the one who had to do it.”
Griffin turns to look at Bowen shrewdly. “He won’t tell me the truth. That’s why I asked you.”
Bowen rubs the back of his neck and sigh. “That’s not fair.”
“How bad was he?” Griffin asks, his tone immediately changing from upbeat to serious.
“Bad enough that I had to help him shower afterward?” He winces.
He can’t lie to Griffin. It’s just not possible. He always knows when Bowen’s lying to him.
“Shiiiiit,” he hisses, looking seriously displeased.
“Don’t give him a hard time about it, Griff.”
Griffin’s dark brown eyes studies Bowen's face. “Why not?” he asks curiously.
“It’s not going to change anything. He’s going to go back and work just as hard all over again. That’s just who he is,” he replies softly.
Griffin nods solemnly. “You’re right. That is who he is.”
Griffin’s eyes linger on Bowen for a moment longer before he turns back to the steaks. Bowen doesn't like the way his brother is looking at him. It’s like he can see inside his soul and knows all of his secrets. It’s always been like that. Griffin knew he was gay before he knew he was gay, yet somehow he doesn’t see that with Gunnar. Gunnar is very good at putting a wall up and keeping people out, so Bowen wonders if that’s what he’s been doing with Griffin to keep him from seeing through his lies. Somehow, Griffin never figured it out that they had been together for six months. They were really careful at keeping it under wraps though.
“Can you go wake Gunnar up for dinner?” Griffin asks me.
“Yeah, sure.”
Bowen leaves Griffin on the patio and heads to Gunnar's room. He’s been asleep ever since the shower incident. That was five hours ago. He lightly knocks on the door before peeking his head into the dark room.
“Hey, Gunnar?” Bowen says into the darkness.
He hears movement come from the direction of where the bed is, but Gunnar doesn’t reply.
Walking farther into the room, Bowen stops when he reaches the end of the bed, his eyes now adjusted to the darkness of the room. It’s still light outside, but Griffin put black out curtains up, so it’s dark as hell in there when they are closed, no matter what time of day it is.
“Gunnar.”
He groans, shifting around in the bed again. “Go away.”
“It’s time for dinner.”
“Don’t care,” he grumbles, his voice muffled, most likely from his pillow.
“Come on, you haven’t eaten all day. You need to eat to gain your strength back,” Bowen tells him.
“Not hungry.”
With a sigh, he moves to the side of the bed and sits down on the edge, next to the mound of covers that is Gunnar.
“You have to eat somethin’,” Bowen argues, grabbing a handful of covers and pulls it down and away from his face.
Gunnar is lying on his stomach, arms shoved up under the pillow. “I’m tired and my body hurts. I just want to sleep.”
“You’re tired because you haven’t replenished your body with the nutrients it needs. Eatin’ will make you feel better.”
“You’re not gonna go away until I get up, are you?”
“Nope.” Bowen smirks.
Gunnar makes an aggravated noise and kicks his feet like a kid having a temper tantrum. Bowen can’t help but laugh.
“Let’s go, ya big baby. Griffin’s makin' steak on the grill. It’s your favorite.”
“I wouldn’t know,” he harrumphs.
“Maybe it’ll help jog your memory. Come on, get up.” Bowen shakes his shoulder then pushes to his feet. “Don’t make me come back in here to get you.”
Gunnar mumbles something under his breath that he can’t make out. Bowen's sure he’s calling him some nasty curse word. With that, he leaves the room so he can get up and get dressed. Griffin is putting the food on the table as he walks into the living room.
“Is he comin’?”
“Yeah, he’ll be out in a few,” Bowen responds.
Bowen doesn’t usually stay for dinner, and he’s not all that fond of meat, but he kind of wants to make sure Gunnar is okay before he leaves. Bowen doesn’t know exactly why he feels the need to make sure he’s okay. He technically didn’t want to babysit him in the first place, but after seeing him today, on his hands and knees in the bathtub...the need to take care of him, to be there for him, took hold and wrapped itself around his heart once again. Not good.
Bowen sits down at the table and his awesome brother, who knows him all too well, places a large bowl of salad in front of him. Bowen gives him a grateful look and thanks him because he was honestly dreading having to try and stomach steak. He’s not a vegetarian. He does like some chicken and pork. He just doesn’t like red meat at all. Salad, fresh vegetables, and fruit are definitely his thing.
The sound of bare feet shuffling on the hardwood floor has Bowen looking toward the hallway. In walks Gunnar in a pair of loose fitting
sweatpants, no shirt, and that backward baseball cap. He looks…wow. Really fucking gorgeous.
“You’re droolin’,” Griffin hisses in Bowen’s ear as he puts a plate of corn on the cob on the table.
Bowen jerks and quickly runs a hand over his mouth to make sure he’s not actually drooling. Griffin chortles as he turns to go back into the kitchen. Fucker. Griffin's not an idiot, he’s known Bowen has found Gunnar attractive from day one. They met three years ago when Gunnar was home between deployments. The attraction was instant, but Gunnar wasn't staying long, and Bowen didn't want just a one-night stand with him. So he waited, and a year later when Gunnar returned, they began seeing each other. Six months later, Bowen was left broken hearted, and Gunnar jumped on a chance for deployment the day after they broke up.
Gunnar pulls out the chair across from Bowen and sits heavily. He plants an elbow on the table and scrubs his hand roughly over his scruffy face. He rubs his eyes then rests his chin on the heel of his palm.
His tired gaze meets Bowen’s, flicks down to the salad in front of him, then lifts back up and cocks an eyebrow. “What’s with the rabbit food? I thought we were havin’ steak?”
“You’re havin' steak. I’m eatin’ salad.”
“Why?”
“I don’t like steak,” Bowen replies in fact.
“Are you one of those people…what are they called? They don’t like meat. Dammit, what are they called?” He snaps his fingers as he tries to think of the word.
“Vegetarian.”
“Yes! One of those!” he exclaims, pointing at Bowen.
“No. I’m not one of those. I'm just not big into red meat.”
Griffin joins them, bringing a plate of baked potatoes with him. He sets them down then sits at the head of the table, putting him adjacent to both of them.
“Go ahead, Gunnar. Help yourself,” Griffin says, motioning toward the food.
Gunnar does as he’s told and piles food onto his plate. “Bowen said that this was my favorite?”
Griffin nods. “Yes, you are definitely a steak and potatoes kind of guy.”
