by S. E. Harmon
I forced myself to focus as he went on, but my dick sprang up two minutes into his ministrations. He washed my back thoroughly and ventured down to my ass, which he washed with a suspicious amount of concentration. I arched my back and pushed my ass out, hoping he’d get the hint, but his touch stayed efficient and clinical. When he squatted down to wash my legs and feet, I sighed and stopped presenting. If I wasn’t going to be fucked, what was the point?
“You said you appreciated my differences.” My voice was quiet, almost lost in the beat of water against tile. “But sometimes different is just a novelty.”
“Stop putting words in my mouth.” He turned me around and raised an eyebrow at my dick, which was hard and throbbing against my stomach.
I shrugged a little sheepishly. “You started it. It’s not like I can tell him what to do.”
He shook his head and started washing my front. “Yeah, I admit things would be easier if you didn’t see ghosts. And yes, it would be easier for us if we didn’t have to go on strange expeditions following them around all of God’s creation, but that’s not what worries me the most.”
“Then what does?”
“I’m your partner. I’m supposed to have your back. Always.” He dropped the loofah and started using his hands instead. I practically held my breath as those big, rough hands traversed my thighs and then slid up and over the planes of my stomach. “Some of the places you go, I can’t follow. And I’m not okay with that.”
“Danny—”
He rose in one swift motion, the color in his cheeks high from a combination of exertion and heat. “I know that you’re capable and trained and fully able to defend yourself if necessary. But this supernatural shit….”
“It’s going to be all right.” A platitude maybe, but I didn’t know what else to say.
“Is it?” he demanded. “He threw you off a fucking bridge. What if it had been higher? Or the water shallower?”
Technically, he fell off the bridge and dragged me with him, but I didn’t think Danny was in the mood for nuance. “I can handle it,” I insisted, despite thinking the same thing earlier.
“You don’t even know what it is and you go barreling right in. I’m used to being there for you, but this… I can’t even see the things you do. That means I can’t always watch your back, and it kills me.”
“Barreling in?” I used both hands to push my hair back and out of my eyes. It certainly didn’t seem that way to me. “They need me—”
“I need you,” he all but shouted, voice echoing off the tile. He looked down at his hands as if just realizing they were balled into fists and let them drop. “I know they need you. But fuck, Rain, I need you, too.”
“You have me.” I stepped forward until I was in his space, our bodies flush against one another. I could feel his cock, hard and eager against mine, but I didn’t break his intense gaze. Then I said it again, just to make sure he really got it. “You have me.”
He looked torn, almost like he wanted to argue more, but I was saying exactly what he wanted to hear. He made a strangled sound of frustration and then slid his hand around the back of my neck and gripped tight.
“I want to fight with you,” he said, looking surprised at his own words.
“Anything you want,” I promised.
“I don’t know what else I want. I just want to yell at you and possess you… and… and fuck you until you know you’re mine and no one else’s.”
I already knew I was his. But I couldn’t argue with a fine fucking plan.
He pushed me against the tile with a suddenness that briefly took my breath away. When his lips landed on mine aggressively, I made a sound of surprise. Deeper, harder, closer. It was more than just a kiss of simple arousal—it was belonging. I kissed him back with everything I had, but he seemed displeased with my participation.
“No,” he muttered against my mouth.
I settled my hands at his waist and let him take control, letting him set the tone and angle of the kiss. As if the nature of the kiss itself didn’t clue me into his aggressive mood, his hand closed around my throat. There was no pressure in his grip, but I wasn’t getting away easily, either. He didn’t restrict my air, but it clearly let me know that this was his fucking show, and he wasn’t looking for costars.
I groaned into his mouth as he started to rotate his hips, grinding against me. He finished the kiss with a soft brush of his lips over mine that left me listing forward when it was over. I went in for another kiss, but he had other ideas. He avoided my seeking mouth and pressed his lips to the sensitive spot behind my ear. And then the pressure around my neck was gone.
I opened my eyes just in time to see him pull back the shower curtain. I reached over and closed it. “We’re not done,” I informed him, just in case he got any other bright ideas about bailing.
“It’s too fucking slippery in here.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“What if I fall and break a hip?” he demanded.
“As you informed Tabitha, we have great departmental insurance.” I turned around and put my hands against the wall. “Now finish what you fucking started.”
The tile, slick from water and steam, sent me sliding and squeaking. I ignored Danny’s chuckle. No way was I going to give him the satisfaction of admitting he was right. Instead, I caught myself on my elbows and braced more securely.
Just when I thought he might refuse, I felt the heat of his body behind me again. I was suddenly very glad we kept lube in the shower as he reached past me and took it down from the caddy. I looked over my shoulder so I could watch as he coated a few of his fingers in the slippery stuff—the rat bastard actually took the time to close the bottle and put it back in the caddy.
He sent me a wolfish grin.
I huffed and turned back around. By the time he finally sank a finger in me, I was more than ready. I let out a sigh that was more of a hiss as he gave me another. I closed my eyes as he worked those clever fingers inside me.
I knew better to say anything or push back for more. He loved to make me wait. The more impatient I got, the more he enjoyed it. He didn’t stop until he’d given me three thick fingers worth, down to the knuckle. The sensation of being overfull and not even close to full enough was fucking incredible.
I finally pushed back against him. Fingers were all well and good, but I was ready for something a little bigger. A lot bigger. “I think that’s enough prep, don’t you think?”
“I wasn’t just prepping you,” he said, his voice gravely and raw. “I like fingering your ass.”
“Yeah, well. I’m done with the kiddy park. Ready to hit the rollercoasters, chief.”
He chuckled. “You have a good grip?”
I nodded, face still buried in my arm, and then he was tunneling inside me, thick and insistent, barely giving me time to adjust to the intrusion. I had a split second to understand this wasn’t going to be one of those romantic times—it was going to be hard, fast, and dirty. I anchored my feet the best I could in the corners of the tub just as he slammed into me again.
“Fuck,” I swore. A metronome would be jealous of the evenness of those strokes. “Fuck that’s good.”
He worked me over, gripping my hips so tight I knew there would be finger shaped bruises there tomorrow. I couldn’t reach down to stroke myself, too busy making sure I didn’t crack my cranium on the slippery tile. I stared down at my dick longingly as it bobbed against my stomach in a way that felt so good, it almost hurt. What I wouldn’t do for a spare hand. One stroke, that’s all it would take.
Every good thing had to come to an end, and shower sex was no different. Danny’s strokes got choppy and uneven. I loved it when he lost his rhythm… loved seeing him lose some of that legendary control. Hell, I more than loved it; I got off on that shit. My balls tightened in warning and my ass clenched in reflex.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he muttered near my ear.
My stomach sparked with electricity. He gripped my cock and start
ed working his hand around it. I watched the head disappearing and reappearing through his fist, and bit back a whimper of relief.
He made a noise of disapproval. “Uh-uh. Wanna hear you.”
I didn’t have much of a choice—his grip was tighter than a fucking Fleshlight. A sound ripped out of my throat as I pressed my cheek against the cold tile. My ass clamped down on him as I came, and he groaned. My body convulsed as I painted the tile with streaks of cum that the water quickly washed away. Danny wasn’t far behind, and even though he came in complete silence, I could feel him pulsing inside me.
Strange how nothing mattered in the search for an orgasm, not even the fact that I, someone who had a hard time with even the most basic yoga positions, contorted my body like a pretzel to give Danny unfettered access to my ass.
Like waking from a fog, all the discomfort hit me at once. The water was ice cold, and my muscles were sore from holding myself that way for so long. I knew I’d feel it the next day… everywhere. My shoulders, my thighs, my hamstrings, and especially my ass. I let out a small whimper as he slipped free.
Worth it.
I patted his thigh and murmured something nonsensical as his hands slipped from my hips. I let go of the wall to stand on my own. Unfortunately, I’d seriously underestimated the power of a killer orgasm. My knees were the constitution of jelly.
My foot slid on the tile and I grabbed for the safety bar. It was smooth and solid under my palms, and I gripped it with a sigh of relief… until it came out of the fucking wall. Danny’s eyes widened with alarm as I scrabbled for purchase. He grabbed for me, but it was a losing battle. We went down like the fucking Titanic, no iceberg necessary.
We fell into the shower curtain and it ripped, sending us flying out of the tub—Danny yelped with pain as his shoulder took the brunt of the hit. We sprawled in a heap of slippery limbs on the bathroom floor. The crumpled and torn piece of vinyl that used to be our shower curtain fluttered down a moment later, covering us, just like a flag for proper burial.
We lay there for a few minutes to recover, the only sound in the bathroom the dripping water on the tile. One of the tub decals hung off my left foot. As soon as I was sure my back wasn’t broken, I was going to write a very strongly worded email to the company.
Danny spoke first. “I did say it was too slippery.”
I glared at the brightly colored, duck-shaped decal. “Does this seem like a good time for an I told you so?”
“Never a bad time to rub something in. Like IcyHot.” He tried to move and let out a weak groan as he fell back in the same position. “I’m too old for this shit.”
“Probably.” I reached out and patted his cheek. “Luckily for me, I’m exactly the right age for this shit.”
“We’re only four years apart,” he growled.
“That’s a lifetime of difference in the world of sexual acrobatics.”
“I think… I just might hate you.”
To be fair, I don’t think he really meant it until the shower curtain rod came down on his shoulder.
After we picked ourselves up off the floor, we weren’t good for anything more strenuous than crawling into bed. Since the hazardous shower sex was my idea, I offered to make sure the house was secure. Danny graciously accepted my generous offer with a grunt.
I made a painful jaunt around the house to check for lights and to make sure the doors were locked, and then limped back to the bedroom. There was a low murmur of conversation in the kitchen, but I could deal with two grannies discussing a recipe for cinnamon coffee cake—even better if they used some geriatric ghost juju and baked me some.
By the time I got back, Danny was already half asleep, turned on his side, one arm under his pillow. I winced at the bruise that was starting to form on his upper shoulder. “You want me to put something on that?”
“Nah,” he said. “I barely feel it.”
That he knew exactly what I was referring to without further clarification made me doubt the veracity of that statement. I knew better than to push. Some people enjoyed being fussed over but Danny wasn’t one of them. I slipped under the covers, which were cool and soft against my skin.
I disrupted the hush of darkness with a sigh. “I thought about what you said.”
“That shower sex will eventually kill us?” His voice was muffled by the pillow, but I heard him just fine.
“No,” I said exaggeratedly. “What you said about the ghosts and being my backup. I think you’re right. I need to understand things a little better. For both of our sakes.”
Danny murmured his approval sleepily. I scooted across the space between us and snuggled in closer to his back. “I think I’ll go to Dakota Daydream,” I mused. “He really was the lesser of the evils.”
“Good.”
“Do you think it’s okay if your therapist quotes Liam Neeson?”
“Really?” Danny sounded amused. “I guess it’s kind of weird, but not a deal breaker. I mean, you’re a walking, talking reference on serial killers, and I put up with you.”
He wasn’t wrong, so I didn’t waste my breath. I wriggled around some more, trying to get comfortable. Then I tangled my icy feet with his warm ones, and he yelped. That was better but it wasn’t quite the spot. I could never memorize the spot for replication purposes—usually a few seconds after I found it, I was sound asleep.
I fluffed up my pillow some more. “Does that bruise on your shoulder mean no future shower sex?”
“That and the fact that we nearly broke our necks. Can you imagine how embarrassing that call out would be?” He began to mimic dispatch. “It seems that two of our own expired on the bathroom floor. Victims of exuberant shower fucking. Ironically, the blond one still has a nonslip decal attached to his foot.”
I laughed so hard I snorted. “We could wear sneakers next time for better traction.”
“Should I ask how you know that?”
“Not unless you want to hear about my prior sex life and an ultra-prepared guy named Max.” I pressed a kiss on his shoulder, right above the discolored bruise. “Of course, you’d have to offer me some crazy ex stories of your own.”
“You’re my last crazy ex,” he said around a yawn.
I closed my eyes until that really sank in. Then they popped back open like I was a marionette and someone yanked my strings. I leaned over Danny to flip on the bedside lamp. He groaned at the light but didn’t open his eyes. Fine by me—it wasn’t the first time I’d interrogated his eyelids and it wouldn’t be the last.
I nudged his shoulder. “What do you mean I’m your last crazy ex?”
“Exactly what I said.”
“We were apart for four years.”
“I’m well aware. It’s a period in my life that seems sweeter and sweeter as the years pass.”
I let that shit slide for the moment. “So you’re saying there was no one else?”
“No.”
I goggled. “Not even a quick hookup?”
“No.” By now his cheeks were stained pink. “And maybe we can stop talking about it?”
“Okay, okay.”
I couldn’t stop looking at him, though. I wanted to drop it, but it was just, well, Danny wasn’t exactly bad looking. He was hot. Really fucking hot. He was the kind of guy you saw at the bar and made a beeline for, using elbows to get there quicker if necessary.
While I found it surprising he’d been living a life of self-imposed monkdom, I had no choice but to believe it. He didn’t lie to me. I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised. Loyal should’ve been his middle name, not Alexander.
He sighed and opened his eyes. “Stop it.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just hard to fathom.”
“Well by all means, keep the light on while you’re fathoming.”
I leaned over him again and snapped off the lamp. I lay back on the bed, suddenly too discomfited to sleep. I knew he wouldn’t be happy with me waking him up again, but I had more questions. And if I was ever going to sleep, I had to get them a
nswered.
“Do you mind if I ask why?” I finally asked.
“For God’s sakes, Christiansen.”
“It’s just that….” I stared up at the ceiling. There was a little dust on the slow-moving ceiling fan that made a strange shape in the dark. “I wish I could say the same.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I think for a while I was trying my damnedest to forget you, and sometimes that included getting horizontal with someone else. Then one day I looked at the guy I was hooking up with and realized exactly why he felt so familiar to me. He had your hair and your eyes. Your jawline.”
“So you have a type,” he said. “Many people do.”
“No, it’s not that. He didn’t really look like you at all, at least to the common eye. But you know how I am about facial symmetry. His symmetry was Danny-esque.”
He groaned. “Please don’t start.”
“Well, that’s the best way I can describe it.” I frowned, remembering. “But then he opened his mouth and ruined shit. Max wasn’t funny or smart or even particularly interesting, now that I think about it.”
“Max,” he said casually. Too casually. “What was his last name?”
“You’re not killing Max.”
“I can’t kill Max if I don’t know his last fucking name.”
“My point is that I realized I was looking for a Xerox copy of you all along, and those pale imitations started pissing me off.” When he didn’t respond, I sighed. “I can see you’re still thinking about Max.”
He grumbled. “Sorry. But shower sex?” He sounded scandalized. “Shouldn’t that be reserved for a serious relationship at least?”
“Thank you, but I’ve unsubscribed from Prudes Quarterly.”
I barely hid a grin at his scowl. He was so damned adorable.
“Rain, I don’t blame you for living your life,” he finally said. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to be lonely. I put your happiness above my jealousy.”