Primeval fic, Relaxation Techniques, Matt/Becker, 15
Title: Relaxation Techniques
Author: quoththewriter
Rating: 15
Characters/Pairings: Matt/Becker
Word Count: 2,716
Warnings: spoilers for anything up to 4x05, mentions events from 4x04 and 4x05. Fluff? Sort-of Established Relationship?
Disclaimer: not mine, never mine.
Summary: Matt visits Becker after a long day at work.
A/N: Just an episode tag to 4.05 that's been playing around in my head for a while. I think this can technically fulfill my prompts for the prompt challenge over at beckermattslash , as well. My prompts were "Lean" and "Flesh". Unbeta'd so any and all mistakes are mine.
&&
Matt hides his pain well. He manages to ignore it long enough to make it through work and looks forward to going home to rest as the clock strikes five, but as he’s leaving he remembers Becker, alone in his flat, and he knows he can’t go home yet.
Becker’s still on medical leave and Matt has somehow worked it into his daily routine to stop by and see him after work. It’s become something of an unspoken promise between them and he knows without having to ask that Becker expects him to show up (and maybe, he even looks forward to it).
But that doesn’t mean he has to.
So Matt is only slightly surprised when he looks up to find himself in Becker’s driveway. He shakes his head and can’t help but laugh as he kills the ignition and makes his way to Becker’s door, and he tries not to think about just what it means that he’s here.
Becker is waiting for him at the door. His arms are crossed but there’s a grin on his face and he looks Matt in the eyes when he opens the door so Matt can tell he isn’t angry. Becker leans against the doorframe, all languid and effortless grace and Matt can’t keep his eyes from travelling along the length of his body before flickering back up to his face. The smile that lights Becker’s face is warm and it feels like a secret, shared just between the two of them.
“I didn’t think you were coming."
Matt shifts a bit awkwardly, not sure how to explain why he’s here (or not sure if he needs to, really, because they both know why he’s here even if neither of them will admit it) so he gestures vaguely and asks without looking, “How’s the leg?"
Becker sighs, as though he’s tired of the question (which Matt knows he is and perhaps that’s partly the reason why he asked, because in the past eight months, teasing Becker has become so natural its almost scary) but he answers with a shrug.
“It’s fine," he says, and waves for Matt to proceed him into the flat. “I wish you’d stop asking."
Matt offers him a smile and a tilt of the head which says in no uncertain terms that he isn’t moving until Becker moves first and Becker, with a hint of frustration in his eyes because he’s been caught and he knows it, gives in and accepts defeat.
He moves away from the door and Matt’s eyes follow him closely, watching for any signs of stiffness or pain as he moves. There are small twinges; a slight, so-slight-he-wouldn't-have-seen-it-if-he-wasn’t-looking-for-it twinge of pain when Becker steps down too roughly because he was trying to prove a point and then paying for it as the pain caught up, but all in all he genuinely seems to be getting better.
“You’ve healed up nicely,” Matt says appreciatively. “I’m surprised you actually kept off it.”
Becker smirks and shakes his head, sparing a glance over his shoulder. “I’m not stupid, Matt. Despite what you might think."
Matt grins in response. “Nah,” he says, sincerely. “I know."
The air around them stills and settles awkwardly as they stand there with their eyes locked, neither of them moving. Finally, Becker breaks the silence.
“How was work?” Brown eyes scan him up and down and there’s a definite hint of disapproval in his tone when he speaks. “You look like you’ve spent the day rolling around in the dirt.”
“Cemetary, actually." Matt’s lips quirk into a grin as Becker’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“It’s a long story," he adds, nodding towards the hall. “Mind if I use your shower?" He bites back a request for Becker to join him because he isn’t sure either of them are up for that tonight, and he offers him a thankful grin when Becker waves him forward without protest.
Matt shuts the bathroom door and starts undressing gingerly, wincing as he stretches sore muscles. He fights back a grimace as his shirt slides over sensitive skin.
He turns round to glance at himself in the mirror and takes in the damage. The struggle with Ethan in the cemetary had been more taxing than he realised. The fall left purple bruises down his back: his spine and shoulder blades still ache from where the cobblestones broke his fall.
Matt winces as he twists and feels a a sharp pain shoot up his side with the movement. He brushes a hand over one of the bruises and sucks in a breath, making a mental note to avoid those spots while washing up.
Speaking of washing up, Matt turns his attention to the shower and balks at the thought of standing under that spray for any amount of time in his present state. Just touching the bruises is bad enough, he doesn’t want to imagine what they would feel like under the sting of water from the showerhead.
His eyes roam over the rest of the bathroom looking for an alternative before going back to the bath. It’s then he realises that the shower has a tub.
Perhaps Becker won't mind if he takes just a bit longer.
With a grateful exhale of breath, he makes his way over and twists on the tap, adjusting the water so its as warm as it can go without burning. Then he strips out of his boots and trousers as he waits for the tub to fill.
The water is hot to the touch and he sinks into it gratefully as he turns off the tap with a contented sigh. It only takes seconds for the water to start working its magic, soothing and relaxing his aching muscles, and once he settles in and gets comfortable he finds his eyes slipping shut as the combination of warmth and weariness lulls him into a daze.
He dreams of nimble fingers on his back; kneading at the tight knots of muscle and skillfully dancing around the bruises; of the firm but gentle press of careful hands against his skin, pinching and releasing away the tension with teasing touhes that manage to pull a moan of pleasure from his lips.
A light chuckle snaps him abruptly from his dream and Matt shivers when he feels those phantom hands, very solid and very real, on his back.
Becker’s hands, wet and warm from the bath water, slide up to his shoulders and his thumbs press soothing circles into the nape of Matt's neck.
“Relax," Becker murmurs, fingers still working. He massages the skin between Matt’s shoulders and neck and Matt feels some of the tension leave him. “You’re too bloody tense.”
“Yeah, that’s a surprise,” Matt grunts, trying to pull away. “You gave me one hell of a scare. I thought I was dreaming and then I wake up and you...you’re...”
“You were dreaming about me?" There’s amusement in Becker’s tone and Matt flushes, suddenly very glad Becker can’t see his face.
“Jesus Christ, Becker,” he mutters sulkily. “I’m in the bath!”
He tries again to escape but Becker’s grip is firm and after a moment of struggle, he gives in with a sigh. Becker laughs warmly.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before."
“Cheeky bastard," Matt mumbles and then his eyes flutter closed as his body shudders. “Oh, God, do that again.”
“And here I thought you were fighting me on it,” Becker quips but he obliges; those slim fingers doing wonders as they move down the length of Matt’s back. He works his way down, massaging as he goes and when he hits the spot just between the second and third vertebrae, Matt all but melts under the touch; the blissful relief of pain and tension leave him feeling boneless. Matt groans and flexes his shoulders to ward off the stiffness.
“That feels fantastic,” he admits, turning his head to glance at Becker to find the man kneeling over him with his neck craned in concentration. “But you’re going to end up with a sore neck if you keep sitting like that.”
“Well there’s hardly room for both of us in there."
Matt flushes. “I wasn’t- I didn’t say-"
Becker grins and reaches out to ruffle his hair affectionately. “Get the rest of that dirt off you and maybe we’ll continue this in a more comfortable location.”
Matt simply sits there for a moment, feeling dazed. He watches Becker from the corner of his eyes as he pretends not to struggle to his feet and Matt feels a twist of guilt for not minding his leg. Kneeling like that couldn’t have been comfortable for him.
He’s still lost in thought when Becker glances over two paces from the door and finds him sitting just as he left him. Becker sighs and shakes his head but its only when he starts hobbling back towards the tub that shakes Matt out of his daze.
“What d'you think you're doing?” He demands, hands on the edge of the tub to catch himself because he moves forward so suddenly he nearly slips. “Stop hobbling around and sit down before you hurt yourself."
Becker ignores him and kneels by the tub again, hands taking hold of Matt’s shoulders and gently manouvreing him until his back hits the edge of the tub before letting go.
Matt stews in silence until Becker dips a cupped hand into the bathwater and empties it over his head. Matt splutters in surprise and jolts forward away from Becker’s hands and the sudden onslaught of water.
“What-?" he starts to protest but gentle hands draw him back again and remain firm on his shoulders. Becker’s voice is by his ear, quiet and amused.
“Dammit, Matt, Relax. I’m not going to hurt you."
Becker dips his hands back into the water and Matt is surprised yet again when the soldier massages the water into his hair. It only takes a few seconds of Becker’s fingers on his scalp to rub away the tension and leave him drowsy and content. He gives in rather quickly, helpless to the heaven of Becker’s fingers in his hair.
Becker’s hands drop away and Matt stifles a noise of protest that twists into an exasperated sigh as those hands return, lathered in shampoo. Matt bites back a growl and slaps his hands away with a half-hearted glare.
“I can handle that!” He protests. “I’m hardly an invalid! Get off the floor before you hurt your leg.”
“My leg is fine,” Becker snaps. “I’ve been resting all week, Matt. I think I can handle kneeling for a few minutes.” There is a quiet anger buried in the methodic way he shoves Matt’s hands away and continues his administrations. He massages the shampoo into Matt’s hair with a forced sense of calmness that Matt sees through in a heartbeat.
“...Sorry.”
Becker’s hands still and Matt can hear the surprise in his voice. “What for?”
“I didn’t mean to upset you."
Becker shakes his head and finishes with the shampoo, rinsing his hands in the tub and collecting fresh water in his palm.
“It’s not that,” Becker admits. “Close your eyes,” he instructs before pouring the water over Matt’s head and washing away some of the lather.
“It’s just...” He finishes rinsing out the last of the suds before resting a wet hand on Matt’s shoulder. Matt shivers from the trickles of water raising goosebumps on his chilled skin.
“Come on,” Matt urges gently. “You can tell me.”
Becker’s hand tightens almost imperceptibly on his shoulder. Matt almost thinks to prompt him again when he finally starts to talk.
“I hate this,” the words are quiet enough that Matt has to strain to hear them even though Becker is sitting a few centimetres away. “I hate being stuck here while you- and the others are out there.” His hand brushes unexpectedly down Matt’s back, ghosting over one of the bruises that is finally starting to show and even though the touch is light the skin is still sensitive and Matt can’t help but cringe. “I could have prevented this. I should’ve been there. I-"
“Bollocks,” he answers, cutting Becker off. “You needed your rest. That therocephalian almost killed you - and don’t argue, I was there, we both know it was a close call.” He tilts his head back to catch Becker’s eyes, but the solider is miles away.
“Look, Becker," he waits until Becker comes back to the present and meets his eyes before continuing. “You can’t protect everyone all the time. You do a bloody fine job of it when you’re with us, and I’m glad to have you at my back. I know you’re stubborn and probably won’t listen to a word I’m saying, but try not to worry so much when you’re not there.” He offers the soldier a crooked smile. “We can handle ourselves, you know.”
He decides not to tell him about Connor and Abby just yet. The last thing Becker needs is more of an excuse to drown himself in guilt. And with a tub full of water in close promiximity, he’s not taking any chances.
Becker absorbs Matt’s words in silence and a few heartbeats pass before he pipes up.
“I get that, I do. It’s just,” Matt shivers lightly as Becker traces a fingertip over the hair at the nape of his neck. “Let me make up for it. Let me take care of you. It’s the least I can do for not being there to protect you. So don’t...fight me, please.”
Becker’s voice is as gentle as the fingers that glide across Matt’s skin and Matt can’t help but shiver.
He cracks a smile. “All that over shampoo?”
Becker splashes another handful of water over his head and Matt blinks when the water hits his eyes. “I was trying to be sincere.”
“So was I.” Matt grins. “If washing my hair helps you feel useful, then,” he shrugs, tone leveling into sincerity. “...thanks."
Becker smiles back. “You’re welcome. Now,” He gropes behind him for a towel and drops it unceremoniously onto Matt's head. “Get out of there before you turn into a prune.”
Becker climbs to his feet and gives the dirty clothes on his floor a disdainful look. “I’ll find you something clean to wear.”
He exits the room and Matt climbs out of the tub, hitting the release for the water.
Matt wraps the towel around himself as he stands, shivering lightly as the water dries on him and leaves a trail of goosebumps on his skin. His muscles protest the movement at first, stiff from sitting in the same position for so long, but moving wakes him up again and he’s pleased to find Becker’s fingers worked some magic. The only thing still tender are the bruises which cover him in a mismash of purple spots. He’s surprised upon seeing them that Becker managed to avoid them at all; they look angrier against his pale skin now that they’ve had a chance to darken.
He towels off his hair and torso and just finishes securing the towel around his waist when Becker knocks on the door, his knuckles against the wood pushing it slightly ajar.
“I’ve got clothes for you,” he announces, poking his head through the door and holding out a bundle of black and grey. Matt takes the clothes, all too aware of Becker’s eyes on his torso as he moves to accept them. He feels flattered at first, before he catches the critical look in Becker’s eyes that remind him he’s a walking advert of bumps and bruises.
“Get dressed,” Becker tells him, before leaving. “And then you can tell me just how you got those bruises.”
Author: quoththewriter
Rating: 15
Characters/Pairings: Matt/Becker
Word Count: 2,716
Warnings: spoilers for anything up to 4x05, mentions events from 4x04 and 4x05. Fluff? Sort-of Established Relationship?
Disclaimer: not mine, never mine.
Summary: Matt visits Becker after a long day at work.
A/N: Just an episode tag to 4.05 that's been playing around in my head for a while. I think this can technically fulfill my prompts for the prompt challenge over at beckermattslash , as well. My prompts were "Lean" and "Flesh". Unbeta'd so any and all mistakes are mine.
&&
Matt hides his pain well. He manages to ignore it long enough to make it through work and looks forward to going home to rest as the clock strikes five, but as he’s leaving he remembers Becker, alone in his flat, and he knows he can’t go home yet.
Becker’s still on medical leave and Matt has somehow worked it into his daily routine to stop by and see him after work. It’s become something of an unspoken promise between them and he knows without having to ask that Becker expects him to show up (and maybe, he even looks forward to it).
But that doesn’t mean he has to.
So Matt is only slightly surprised when he looks up to find himself in Becker’s driveway. He shakes his head and can’t help but laugh as he kills the ignition and makes his way to Becker’s door, and he tries not to think about just what it means that he’s here.
Becker is waiting for him at the door. His arms are crossed but there’s a grin on his face and he looks Matt in the eyes when he opens the door so Matt can tell he isn’t angry. Becker leans against the doorframe, all languid and effortless grace and Matt can’t keep his eyes from travelling along the length of his body before flickering back up to his face. The smile that lights Becker’s face is warm and it feels like a secret, shared just between the two of them.
“I didn’t think you were coming."
Matt shifts a bit awkwardly, not sure how to explain why he’s here (or not sure if he needs to, really, because they both know why he’s here even if neither of them will admit it) so he gestures vaguely and asks without looking, “How’s the leg?"
Becker sighs, as though he’s tired of the question (which Matt knows he is and perhaps that’s partly the reason why he asked, because in the past eight months, teasing Becker has become so natural its almost scary) but he answers with a shrug.
“It’s fine," he says, and waves for Matt to proceed him into the flat. “I wish you’d stop asking."
Matt offers him a smile and a tilt of the head which says in no uncertain terms that he isn’t moving until Becker moves first and Becker, with a hint of frustration in his eyes because he’s been caught and he knows it, gives in and accepts defeat.
He moves away from the door and Matt’s eyes follow him closely, watching for any signs of stiffness or pain as he moves. There are small twinges; a slight, so-slight-he-wouldn't-have-seen-it-if-he-wasn’t-looking-for-it twinge of pain when Becker steps down too roughly because he was trying to prove a point and then paying for it as the pain caught up, but all in all he genuinely seems to be getting better.
“You’ve healed up nicely,” Matt says appreciatively. “I’m surprised you actually kept off it.”
Becker smirks and shakes his head, sparing a glance over his shoulder. “I’m not stupid, Matt. Despite what you might think."
Matt grins in response. “Nah,” he says, sincerely. “I know."
The air around them stills and settles awkwardly as they stand there with their eyes locked, neither of them moving. Finally, Becker breaks the silence.
“How was work?” Brown eyes scan him up and down and there’s a definite hint of disapproval in his tone when he speaks. “You look like you’ve spent the day rolling around in the dirt.”
“Cemetary, actually." Matt’s lips quirk into a grin as Becker’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“It’s a long story," he adds, nodding towards the hall. “Mind if I use your shower?" He bites back a request for Becker to join him because he isn’t sure either of them are up for that tonight, and he offers him a thankful grin when Becker waves him forward without protest.
Matt shuts the bathroom door and starts undressing gingerly, wincing as he stretches sore muscles. He fights back a grimace as his shirt slides over sensitive skin.
He turns round to glance at himself in the mirror and takes in the damage. The struggle with Ethan in the cemetary had been more taxing than he realised. The fall left purple bruises down his back: his spine and shoulder blades still ache from where the cobblestones broke his fall.
Matt winces as he twists and feels a a sharp pain shoot up his side with the movement. He brushes a hand over one of the bruises and sucks in a breath, making a mental note to avoid those spots while washing up.
Speaking of washing up, Matt turns his attention to the shower and balks at the thought of standing under that spray for any amount of time in his present state. Just touching the bruises is bad enough, he doesn’t want to imagine what they would feel like under the sting of water from the showerhead.
His eyes roam over the rest of the bathroom looking for an alternative before going back to the bath. It’s then he realises that the shower has a tub.
Perhaps Becker won't mind if he takes just a bit longer.
With a grateful exhale of breath, he makes his way over and twists on the tap, adjusting the water so its as warm as it can go without burning. Then he strips out of his boots and trousers as he waits for the tub to fill.
The water is hot to the touch and he sinks into it gratefully as he turns off the tap with a contented sigh. It only takes seconds for the water to start working its magic, soothing and relaxing his aching muscles, and once he settles in and gets comfortable he finds his eyes slipping shut as the combination of warmth and weariness lulls him into a daze.
He dreams of nimble fingers on his back; kneading at the tight knots of muscle and skillfully dancing around the bruises; of the firm but gentle press of careful hands against his skin, pinching and releasing away the tension with teasing touhes that manage to pull a moan of pleasure from his lips.
A light chuckle snaps him abruptly from his dream and Matt shivers when he feels those phantom hands, very solid and very real, on his back.
Becker’s hands, wet and warm from the bath water, slide up to his shoulders and his thumbs press soothing circles into the nape of Matt's neck.
“Relax," Becker murmurs, fingers still working. He massages the skin between Matt’s shoulders and neck and Matt feels some of the tension leave him. “You’re too bloody tense.”
“Yeah, that’s a surprise,” Matt grunts, trying to pull away. “You gave me one hell of a scare. I thought I was dreaming and then I wake up and you...you’re...”
“You were dreaming about me?" There’s amusement in Becker’s tone and Matt flushes, suddenly very glad Becker can’t see his face.
“Jesus Christ, Becker,” he mutters sulkily. “I’m in the bath!”
He tries again to escape but Becker’s grip is firm and after a moment of struggle, he gives in with a sigh. Becker laughs warmly.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before."
“Cheeky bastard," Matt mumbles and then his eyes flutter closed as his body shudders. “Oh, God, do that again.”
“And here I thought you were fighting me on it,” Becker quips but he obliges; those slim fingers doing wonders as they move down the length of Matt’s back. He works his way down, massaging as he goes and when he hits the spot just between the second and third vertebrae, Matt all but melts under the touch; the blissful relief of pain and tension leave him feeling boneless. Matt groans and flexes his shoulders to ward off the stiffness.
“That feels fantastic,” he admits, turning his head to glance at Becker to find the man kneeling over him with his neck craned in concentration. “But you’re going to end up with a sore neck if you keep sitting like that.”
“Well there’s hardly room for both of us in there."
Matt flushes. “I wasn’t- I didn’t say-"
Becker grins and reaches out to ruffle his hair affectionately. “Get the rest of that dirt off you and maybe we’ll continue this in a more comfortable location.”
Matt simply sits there for a moment, feeling dazed. He watches Becker from the corner of his eyes as he pretends not to struggle to his feet and Matt feels a twist of guilt for not minding his leg. Kneeling like that couldn’t have been comfortable for him.
He’s still lost in thought when Becker glances over two paces from the door and finds him sitting just as he left him. Becker sighs and shakes his head but its only when he starts hobbling back towards the tub that shakes Matt out of his daze.
“What d'you think you're doing?” He demands, hands on the edge of the tub to catch himself because he moves forward so suddenly he nearly slips. “Stop hobbling around and sit down before you hurt yourself."
Becker ignores him and kneels by the tub again, hands taking hold of Matt’s shoulders and gently manouvreing him until his back hits the edge of the tub before letting go.
Matt stews in silence until Becker dips a cupped hand into the bathwater and empties it over his head. Matt splutters in surprise and jolts forward away from Becker’s hands and the sudden onslaught of water.
“What-?" he starts to protest but gentle hands draw him back again and remain firm on his shoulders. Becker’s voice is by his ear, quiet and amused.
“Dammit, Matt, Relax. I’m not going to hurt you."
Becker dips his hands back into the water and Matt is surprised yet again when the soldier massages the water into his hair. It only takes a few seconds of Becker’s fingers on his scalp to rub away the tension and leave him drowsy and content. He gives in rather quickly, helpless to the heaven of Becker’s fingers in his hair.
Becker’s hands drop away and Matt stifles a noise of protest that twists into an exasperated sigh as those hands return, lathered in shampoo. Matt bites back a growl and slaps his hands away with a half-hearted glare.
“I can handle that!” He protests. “I’m hardly an invalid! Get off the floor before you hurt your leg.”
“My leg is fine,” Becker snaps. “I’ve been resting all week, Matt. I think I can handle kneeling for a few minutes.” There is a quiet anger buried in the methodic way he shoves Matt’s hands away and continues his administrations. He massages the shampoo into Matt’s hair with a forced sense of calmness that Matt sees through in a heartbeat.
“...Sorry.”
Becker’s hands still and Matt can hear the surprise in his voice. “What for?”
“I didn’t mean to upset you."
Becker shakes his head and finishes with the shampoo, rinsing his hands in the tub and collecting fresh water in his palm.
“It’s not that,” Becker admits. “Close your eyes,” he instructs before pouring the water over Matt’s head and washing away some of the lather.
“It’s just...” He finishes rinsing out the last of the suds before resting a wet hand on Matt’s shoulder. Matt shivers from the trickles of water raising goosebumps on his chilled skin.
“Come on,” Matt urges gently. “You can tell me.”
Becker’s hand tightens almost imperceptibly on his shoulder. Matt almost thinks to prompt him again when he finally starts to talk.
“I hate this,” the words are quiet enough that Matt has to strain to hear them even though Becker is sitting a few centimetres away. “I hate being stuck here while you- and the others are out there.” His hand brushes unexpectedly down Matt’s back, ghosting over one of the bruises that is finally starting to show and even though the touch is light the skin is still sensitive and Matt can’t help but cringe. “I could have prevented this. I should’ve been there. I-"
“Bollocks,” he answers, cutting Becker off. “You needed your rest. That therocephalian almost killed you - and don’t argue, I was there, we both know it was a close call.” He tilts his head back to catch Becker’s eyes, but the solider is miles away.
“Look, Becker," he waits until Becker comes back to the present and meets his eyes before continuing. “You can’t protect everyone all the time. You do a bloody fine job of it when you’re with us, and I’m glad to have you at my back. I know you’re stubborn and probably won’t listen to a word I’m saying, but try not to worry so much when you’re not there.” He offers the soldier a crooked smile. “We can handle ourselves, you know.”
He decides not to tell him about Connor and Abby just yet. The last thing Becker needs is more of an excuse to drown himself in guilt. And with a tub full of water in close promiximity, he’s not taking any chances.
Becker absorbs Matt’s words in silence and a few heartbeats pass before he pipes up.
“I get that, I do. It’s just,” Matt shivers lightly as Becker traces a fingertip over the hair at the nape of his neck. “Let me make up for it. Let me take care of you. It’s the least I can do for not being there to protect you. So don’t...fight me, please.”
Becker’s voice is as gentle as the fingers that glide across Matt’s skin and Matt can’t help but shiver.
He cracks a smile. “All that over shampoo?”
Becker splashes another handful of water over his head and Matt blinks when the water hits his eyes. “I was trying to be sincere.”
“So was I.” Matt grins. “If washing my hair helps you feel useful, then,” he shrugs, tone leveling into sincerity. “...thanks."
Becker smiles back. “You’re welcome. Now,” He gropes behind him for a towel and drops it unceremoniously onto Matt's head. “Get out of there before you turn into a prune.”
Becker climbs to his feet and gives the dirty clothes on his floor a disdainful look. “I’ll find you something clean to wear.”
He exits the room and Matt climbs out of the tub, hitting the release for the water.
Matt wraps the towel around himself as he stands, shivering lightly as the water dries on him and leaves a trail of goosebumps on his skin. His muscles protest the movement at first, stiff from sitting in the same position for so long, but moving wakes him up again and he’s pleased to find Becker’s fingers worked some magic. The only thing still tender are the bruises which cover him in a mismash of purple spots. He’s surprised upon seeing them that Becker managed to avoid them at all; they look angrier against his pale skin now that they’ve had a chance to darken.
He towels off his hair and torso and just finishes securing the towel around his waist when Becker knocks on the door, his knuckles against the wood pushing it slightly ajar.
“I’ve got clothes for you,” he announces, poking his head through the door and holding out a bundle of black and grey. Matt takes the clothes, all too aware of Becker’s eyes on his torso as he moves to accept them. He feels flattered at first, before he catches the critical look in Becker’s eyes that remind him he’s a walking advert of bumps and bruises.
“Get dressed,” Becker tells him, before leaving. “And then you can tell me just how you got those bruises.”