Damn that felt good. The warm water sluicing down over my muscles was exactly what I needed.
Then I imagined a certain man with pink cheeks and full lips standing right there with me.
A wave of pleasure washed over me, reminding me that my body still worked, that it was still fully functional after all it had been through. My cock stiffened, and I reached down and wrapped my hand around my erection.
I closed my eyes and began to work myself to the delectable image of my roommate, and when I thought of the sacrifices and care he’d shown me over the last few days, my desire for him only intensified.
I bit down into my lip, stroking myself a little harder, and when I heard movement outside the bathroom door, and thought of Ryan only one room away from me while I got off to the image of him on his knees, I dug my fingers into the tile and came all over the wall in an explosive reminder that I was well on my way to recovery.
I let out a satisfied sigh and dropped my hand, then I straightened under the spray and quickly finished washing up, suddenly wanting to see him again.
I dried off and had a quick shave, then pulled the door open and walked out into the living room.
I crossed over to the kitchen island, drinking in the sight of Ryan before he turned around. “Can I help with anything?”
Ryan glanced over his shoulder and pointed to the stool. “Definitely not. You sit.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ryan smirked and turned to the oven, and when he bent down to open it, I couldn’t help my eyes from straying to the perfect ass underneath his sweats.
I was definitely feeling better, because despite my little session in the shower, my body was responding in all the ways it usually did when I looked at my roommate.
“Do you feel better after your shower?”
You could say that. “Can I be honest?”
Ryan slid the baking dish onto the counter and shut the oven door. “Of course.”
“I feel fucking amazing.” I wouldn’t tell him why, but it was the truth.
He looked to me and laughed. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” I sighed and shoved my fingers through my hair. “I mean, I hate being sick, but Jesus, this thing knocked me on my ass.”
“It didn’t look fun, that’s for sure.” Ryan pulled his oven mitts off and then grabbed a plate to put a piece of chicken on. “I made mashed potatoes, thinking it would be easy to eat. Does that work?”
I was again taken off guard by the gesture. I’d never been so well cared for in my life, and it felt nice.
Ryan picked up our plates and brought them over to me, then he took out several condiments for the chicken and held up a jug of water.
“This do, or would you like something else?”
“Water’s great.”
He smiled, grabbed two glasses, and then handed me my utensils before taking the seat beside me.
“Hey,” I said, and bumped my shoulder with his. “Thank you for looking after me through this. I know it couldn’t have been easy.”
This close I could see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes, and I wasn’t sure if it was the residual effects of my illness, but they seemed to glow.
“You were fine, honestly. Maybe even nicer than when you’re lucid.”
I scoffed. “I guess I deserve that.”
“I’m just messing with you. But really, the worst part was your fever.”
I frowned. “It’s weird that I don’t remember it.”
Ryan nodded, his expression turning serious. “It was bad.”
I took a bite of my meal and had to hold back a groan as the familiar taste of the chicken hit. Between the meal, the company, and the care Ryan had shown me, I felt a sense of warmth and belonging I’d never experienced before. I felt safe, and I never felt like that.
“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Ryan asked.
“Sure.”
“And you don’t have to answer if—”
“GQ, you just spent the weekend changing my clothes and making sure I didn’t die. I’m pretty sure I can answer a question for you.” At least, I hoped I could.
Ryan bit down on his lower lip. “Okay, but remember you don’t have to answer.”
“Okay.”
“Who’s Simon?”
The second the question left Ryan’s tongue, I froze. That was the last thing I’d expected him to ask. Where had he heard that name? “Why?” The sense of safety I’d been feeling seconds ago was replaced with cold, hard dread.
“You talked to him a lot when you were sick. It seemed like you were close.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out Ryan’s words, but when flashes from that day started to replay in my mind, I reopened them.
“Jameson?” Ryan reached out and placed a gentle hand on my arm.
I glanced at him and saw compassion and understanding shining back at me. “He was a friend of mine. He died.”
Not able to bear the look of sympathy I knew I’d see on his face, I lowered my eyes to Ryan’s hand. As we sat there in silence, the only sound I could hear was the blood ringing in my ears.
“Was he a fireman too?”
“Yeah. He died on scene at one of our calls.”
Ryan took in a deep breath. “Was that his room at your old place?”
I nodded, trying to find my words, but it was difficult. I’d spent so long actively avoiding the subject that I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know where to start.
“It’s okay if you’d rather not—”
“We drove into work together one morning,” I finally managed, remembering Simon laughing and giving me shit about some guy who wouldn’t stop calling me. “But that night, only I came home.”
I shook my head and put my knife and fork down. “I didn’t—still don’t—know how to process that. We’d been friends since we were teenagers, and him not being here anymore is just too fucking painful to think about.”
“Jameson… I’m so sorry.”
“Why? It wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t yours either.”
I turned to see him looking at me with a certainty I didn’t share. But then I realized what he’d said. “Why would you think I blamed myself?”
Ryan swallowed as though he was nervous about his next words. “Because you were apologizing to him.”
Fuck. I scrubbed my hands over my face.
“I’m sorry,” Ryan said, his voice soft. “We don’t have to talk about this anymore. I just wanted to understand and let you know I’m here if you ever want to talk.”
I stared at my plate for a moment and then looked up at him. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”
And for the first time, I wasn’t lying.
It hurt like hell to talk about Simon, to think about that day. But if I was going to open up to anyone, it would be Ryan, the man who had cared for me in my hour of need, and asked for nothing in return.
I trusted him, and I trusted no one.
We went back to eating our dinner, and just as we were finishing up, he said, “Do you think that maybe we could start over? Be friends?”
That feeling of warmth and sense of belonging returned, and I found myself nodding. “Yeah, GQ, I think I’d like that.”