Washing it AwayhiddentimelordSeptember 27 2011, 11:15:09 UTC
I apologize it doesn't involve bathtubs, dear Anon, but showers count as bathing too... I hope it's okay.
"Easy," said Peter, wincing as he was helped into the shower.
"Let's just get this over with," muttered Charley, his arm wrapped around Peter's torso, the other hanging on to his, draped over his neck.
It was almost dark, but they were safe in Peter's high rise. They'd killed a vampire that afternoon in an abandoned, condemned house. The operation had gone relatively smoothly - the only real damage the vampire had done was a cut over Charley's left eye, thanks to the undead having long finger nails. Leaving was a different story. On the way out Peter had stepped onto a rotten bit of flooring. It had crumbled out, and he'd ripped his leg open on a nail in the floorboards. Charley couldn't get him to the hospital fast enough.
Peter is filthy, his face and bare arms covered in dirt and grime and blood. Charley had at least gotten the chance to shower earlier, while Peter had been stitched up.
Peter settled himself onto a stool while Charley turned on the knobs on the shower wall. The two of them were sprayed with a jet of warm water. He turned to look at Peter, who was looking a little lost from all the drugs he was on from the hospital. He was dressed in swim-trunks, thank god. So was Charley, even though they were on loan from Peter and didn't fit well.
"Alright?" Charley asked.
Peter nodded, wincing. He touched the red skin on the back of his leg. "Fucking things hurt."
"Are the drugs helping?"
"A bit." Peter shifted in the water as Charley grabbed a bottle of shampoo. "I'm not so enfeebled that I can't wash myself."
"How many reflections are in the shower door?"
"Um..." Peter turned, blinking. "Four."
Charley nodded, smiling a little. "Precisely."
Peter sighed. "Can't I wait until I'm not drugged up?"
"Peter, you're covered in fucking sweat, blood, vampire ash, and dirt. No, it can't wait."
He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to be there, in the water with Peter, all hopped up on T-3's, unable to see straight or stand up on his own. This was a world of wrong.
He lathered his hands with the shampoo, and the strong scent of peppermint filled the shower. He'd never washed another person's hair before, but figured it couldn't be too hard. He started massaging the shampoo through the magician's shaggy hair. Peter groaned, his head lolling back as Charley worked. Charley felt his face flushing. Did he have to make noises like that? It sounded almost... sexual.
"Oh, that's nice," hummed Peter, leaning back against Charley, his leg stuck out straight. Water sprinkled over his skin, dripping off the plastic that Charley had taped over the sutures.
Charley let out a shaky breath. Peter was enjoying it far too much. He reached out and found the handle to the shower. He pulled the wand down, tilting his head back with a soft touch underneath his chin. Peter closed his eyes obediently while Charley washed the shampoo out of his hair. With it came the soot, the dirt, and blood from the vampire they'd killed, trailing down over his back, and onto the pale tile floor of the shower. Charley watched it seep towards the drain.
"Conditioner now," he said, putting the shower wand back. The same scent of peppermint and eucalyptus came with it, renewed again, tingling his hands as he ran his fingers through Peter's hair. Peter moaned again, longer, sending little tingles of lust along Charley's stomach.
"Feels good," said Peter, his voice a little thick.
Washing it Away, pt2hiddentimelordSeptember 27 2011, 11:19:56 UTC
I'm straight, thought Charley, desperate. I like girls. Girls like Amy. He took the wand again, tilting Peter's head. He looked so smooth, so much younger and relaxed as the water poured through his hair. Charley chased the spray with his fingers, running them through Peter's now clean, silky feeling locks.
Resetting the wand, he adjusted the spray to cover the two of them. He picked up a black loofah and a bottle of soap from a small basket in the corner of the shower. Old Spice, Charley noticed as he squeezed a measure into the loofah and rolled it in his hands.
He started with Peter's feet, avoiding his soles when Peter giggled, slumping against the tile. His legs twitched in response as Charley scrubbed higher, to his knees. Charley kept his eyes trained only where he was washing, avoiding looking at Peter's red trunks, soaking wet and clinging to his thighs, and his hips, and his -
Charley stood up, walking around him, trying to control his breathing. He squirted a little more soap in the loofah, and rolled it in his hands, lathering it. "A-almost done," said Charley. He was sure his voice wasn't that high normally.
He pressed the coarse material against Peter's shoulders and turned it in small circles. Peter moaned again, and Charley could feel his hands shaking as he washed the grime rubbed away to reveal the warm pink skin beneath. Another bolt of lust went straight to his crotch. He was getting hard now, and he backed his hips away from Peter's body so he wouldn't give himself away.
I am straight. I am totally straight.
Charley sighed, knowing he was lying to himself as he washed Peter's arms. First the left, then the right, and then he washed Peter's lower back. Peter arched against the contact, his hands squeezing his legs, humming low in his throat. Charley's face was burning as he touched Peter's jaw.
"Tilt your head again. Keep your eyes closed."
Peter complied, his eyes shut. Charley stroked his face with the loofah, in long, gentle motions. The soot, the dirt, the flecks of blood came away with the eyeliner, leaving his face smooth and clean. Water beaded and rolled off of his forehead, and Charley had to hold his breath as he stroked down to the front of Peter's neck.
Peter's eyes opened, watching him. He couldn't read the look in his eyes, but the gentle smoulder sent his heart racing.
Peter's hand reached up, ran his fingers through Charley's curls, and pulled him down. His lips were so much softer than he'd thought they'd been. As soft as Amy's.
Charley curled his arm around Peter's torso, the other hand on Peter's neck, the loofah still moving in gentle circles. When Peter's lips started to move against his, gentle and slow, Charley felt himself sinking towards him. The loofah slipped from his fingers, rolled over Peter's hips, hit the puddle of water flowing over the tiles.
Re: Washing it Away, pt3hiddentimelordSeptember 27 2011, 11:20:18 UTC
He ran his fingers over Peter's chest, tugging at his chest hair, brushed one of his nipples, which was hard. Peter sucked in a breath, and his hand tightened. Charley opened his mouth from a gentle swipe of Peter's tongue. Peter hummed low in his throat, causing gentle little vibrations in Charley's fingertips.
Every time Charley had imagined this (and oh, he'd imagined it so many times, as loath as he was to admit to that), he'd imagined Peter's kisses to be hard and demanding, not sweet and soft. His tongue was skilled against his, and Charley was sure it was obvious he was a total amateur, but it didn't stop the older man from drawing it even deeper, pulling Charley down harder.
Charley was half crouching now, resting some of his weight against Peter, his hand tracing lower, over his stomach. He felt the crease of his appendectomy scar, the soft fuzz around his navel. Then further, he touched the smooth fabric of his board shorts, which were tight.
Charley moaned now, squeezing Peter's hard on through the cloth. He rubbed and squeezed until Peter's hips began to flex into him. Charley wasn't sure what he was doing, but he wanted to do it. He undid the laces and pulled them until they were loose.
Peter pulled away, drawing in a deep breath as Charley's hand slipped under the band of his shorts, curious. He groaned, deep in his throat, as Charley kissed his neck, and touched him.
He was smooth, silky, and so hot under his palm. He didn't know what Peter liked, but he knew what felt good when he touched himself, so he did the same, wrapping his hand around the head of his cock, squeezing in time with Peter's thrusts.
He ran his tongue along the hard muscles in Peter's neck, tasting nothing but sweet skin and the faint aftertaste of the soap and water. He dragged his teeth a little, and increasing his rhythm, and Peter held onto him, cried out Charley's name as he came. The sound bounced off of the tiles, mixed with the gentle patter of the spraying water.
Charley shuddered as warm come spilled over his fingers. Peter twisted, hissing a little with the pain the movement must have brought, and wrapped his arms around Charley's shoulders.
Charley pulled away, sighing. The water sprayed over him, dripping, so warm and so soft.
Hoo-ray! So glad you enjoyed it! ^^ I tried to write something that involved Peter luring Charley into a bathtub, but it wouldn't come out right, and a shower scenario kept popping into my head :P
"Easy," said Peter, wincing as he was helped into the shower.
"Let's just get this over with," muttered Charley, his arm wrapped around Peter's torso, the other hanging on to his, draped over his neck.
It was almost dark, but they were safe in Peter's high rise. They'd killed a vampire that afternoon in an abandoned, condemned house. The operation had gone relatively smoothly - the only real damage the vampire had done was a cut over Charley's left eye, thanks to the undead having long finger nails. Leaving was a different story. On the way out Peter had stepped onto a rotten bit of flooring. It had crumbled out, and he'd ripped his leg open on a nail in the floorboards. Charley couldn't get him to the hospital fast enough.
Peter is filthy, his face and bare arms covered in dirt and grime and blood. Charley had at least gotten the chance to shower earlier, while Peter had been stitched up.
Peter settled himself onto a stool while Charley turned on the knobs on the shower wall. The two of them were sprayed with a jet of warm water. He turned to look at Peter, who was looking a little lost from all the drugs he was on from the hospital. He was dressed in swim-trunks, thank god. So was Charley, even though they were on loan from Peter and didn't fit well.
"Alright?" Charley asked.
Peter nodded, wincing. He touched the red skin on the back of his leg. "Fucking things hurt."
"Are the drugs helping?"
"A bit." Peter shifted in the water as Charley grabbed a bottle of shampoo. "I'm not so enfeebled that I can't wash myself."
"How many reflections are in the shower door?"
"Um..." Peter turned, blinking. "Four."
Charley nodded, smiling a little. "Precisely."
Peter sighed. "Can't I wait until I'm not drugged up?"
"Peter, you're covered in fucking sweat, blood, vampire ash, and dirt. No, it can't wait."
He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to be there, in the water with Peter, all hopped up on T-3's, unable to see straight or stand up on his own. This was a world of wrong.
He lathered his hands with the shampoo, and the strong scent of peppermint filled the shower. He'd never washed another person's hair before, but figured it couldn't be too hard. He started massaging the shampoo through the magician's shaggy hair. Peter groaned, his head lolling back as Charley worked. Charley felt his face flushing. Did he have to make noises like that? It sounded almost... sexual.
"Oh, that's nice," hummed Peter, leaning back against Charley, his leg stuck out straight. Water sprinkled over his skin, dripping off the plastic that Charley had taped over the sutures.
Charley let out a shaky breath. Peter was enjoying it far too much. He reached out and found the handle to the shower. He pulled the wand down, tilting his head back with a soft touch underneath his chin. Peter closed his eyes obediently while Charley washed the shampoo out of his hair. With it came the soot, the dirt, and blood from the vampire they'd killed, trailing down over his back, and onto the pale tile floor of the shower. Charley watched it seep towards the drain.
"Conditioner now," he said, putting the shower wand back. The same scent of peppermint and eucalyptus came with it, renewed again, tingling his hands as he ran his fingers through Peter's hair. Peter moaned again, longer, sending little tingles of lust along Charley's stomach.
"Feels good," said Peter, his voice a little thick.
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Resetting the wand, he adjusted the spray to cover the two of them. He picked up a black loofah and a bottle of soap from a small basket in the corner of the shower. Old Spice, Charley noticed as he squeezed a measure into the loofah and rolled it in his hands.
He started with Peter's feet, avoiding his soles when Peter giggled, slumping against the tile. His legs twitched in response as Charley scrubbed higher, to his knees. Charley kept his eyes trained only where he was washing, avoiding looking at Peter's red trunks, soaking wet and clinging to his thighs, and his hips, and his -
Charley stood up, walking around him, trying to control his breathing. He squirted a little more soap in the loofah, and rolled it in his hands, lathering it. "A-almost done," said Charley. He was sure his voice wasn't that high normally.
He pressed the coarse material against Peter's shoulders and turned it in small circles. Peter moaned again, and Charley could feel his hands shaking as he washed the grime rubbed away to reveal the warm pink skin beneath. Another bolt of lust went straight to his crotch. He was getting hard now, and he backed his hips away from Peter's body so he wouldn't give himself away.
I am straight. I am totally straight.
Charley sighed, knowing he was lying to himself as he washed Peter's arms. First the left, then the right, and then he washed Peter's lower back. Peter arched against the contact, his hands squeezing his legs, humming low in his throat. Charley's face was burning as he touched Peter's jaw.
"Tilt your head again. Keep your eyes closed."
Peter complied, his eyes shut. Charley stroked his face with the loofah, in long, gentle motions. The soot, the dirt, the flecks of blood came away with the eyeliner, leaving his face smooth and clean. Water beaded and rolled off of his forehead, and Charley had to hold his breath as he stroked down to the front of Peter's neck.
Peter's eyes opened, watching him. He couldn't read the look in his eyes, but the gentle smoulder sent his heart racing.
Peter's hand reached up, ran his fingers through Charley's curls, and pulled him down. His lips were so much softer than he'd thought they'd been. As soft as Amy's.
Charley curled his arm around Peter's torso, the other hand on Peter's neck, the loofah still moving in gentle circles. When Peter's lips started to move against his, gentle and slow, Charley felt himself sinking towards him. The loofah slipped from his fingers, rolled over Peter's hips, hit the puddle of water flowing over the tiles.
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Every time Charley had imagined this (and oh, he'd imagined it so many times, as loath as he was to admit to that), he'd imagined Peter's kisses to be hard and demanding, not sweet and soft. His tongue was skilled against his, and Charley was sure it was obvious he was a total amateur, but it didn't stop the older man from drawing it even deeper, pulling Charley down harder.
Charley was half crouching now, resting some of his weight against Peter, his hand tracing lower, over his stomach. He felt the crease of his appendectomy scar, the soft fuzz around his navel. Then further, he touched the smooth fabric of his board shorts, which were tight.
Charley moaned now, squeezing Peter's hard on through the cloth. He rubbed and squeezed until Peter's hips began to flex into him. Charley wasn't sure what he was doing, but he wanted to do it. He undid the laces and pulled them until they were loose.
Peter pulled away, drawing in a deep breath as Charley's hand slipped under the band of his shorts, curious. He groaned, deep in his throat, as Charley kissed his neck, and touched him.
He was smooth, silky, and so hot under his palm. He didn't know what Peter liked, but he knew what felt good when he touched himself, so he did the same, wrapping his hand around the head of his cock, squeezing in time with Peter's thrusts.
He ran his tongue along the hard muscles in Peter's neck, tasting nothing but sweet skin and the faint aftertaste of the soap and water. He dragged his teeth a little, and increasing his rhythm, and Peter held onto him, cried out Charley's name as he came. The sound bounced off of the tiles, mixed with the gentle patter of the spraying water.
Charley shuddered as warm come spilled over his fingers. Peter twisted, hissing a little with the pain the movement must have brought, and wrapped his arms around Charley's shoulders.
Charley pulled away, sighing. The water sprayed over him, dripping, so warm and so soft.
"All clean," said Charley.
"No I'm not," was Peter's reply, and he chuckled.
Charley couldn't help it. He laughed too.
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