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Honestly, I can’t get any gayer than being married to a man.
A simple bath with one isn’t a big deal. I’m sure they did this kind of stuff all the time in the olden days. Like the Romans. There were entire bathhouses where naked men hung out together and washed each other’s backs.
It’s no big deal. It’s just some water and a tub.
And bubbles.
By the time I come to terms with joining him, he’s out, smelling like a beehive with a towel wrapped around his waist.
“Gah, that is just what I needed. A detox. I feel like a new man.”
“Sure you do,” I murmur, feeling like a tired old man at this point. Now that I’ve been thinking about the knots in my back, they’ve become more prominent. Kind of painful actually. Just big basketballs on my shoulders.
“Scoot over, Matthew. I want to lie down and not move until morning.”
He grabs the TV remote and switches it on. I glance at him and watch as he tosses the wet towel on the ground. His skin is pink and soft as he stretches his arms over his head, showing me the definition in his back. And then he’s crawling onto the bed, pulling the sheets over his legs. Behind him are a plethora of pillows…every last one, which leaves none for me.
My eyes swivel to the other unused queen bed in the room. I guess I could go sit there while he lounges in his bed. That’s what a normal guy would do. They’d find their own spot and claim it. But for some reason, I can’t move. I can’t fucking do it.
“Stop looking so forlorn. Just come sit with me,” Coop says, shocking me out of my internal turmoil.
He pats his lap, and I scoff, turning and moving into the bathroom. Stripping off my clothes, I turn on the shower and step inside, letting the warm water pelt the tight muscles of my back. A bath would have been better, I think, feeling grumpy all of a sudden.
Should have taken a goddamn bath.
I grab the hotel’s generic bar of soap, and as I wash my body, my mind flashes to images of Coop, his pink skin, and his round ass.
My hand comes up and slaps my cheek, hoping to pull myself back to reality. I’m not going to think about him while I’m washing my dick.
Absolutely not.
Rinsing as quickly as I can, I shut the water off, pulling a towel around my waist and walking out into the main room. The TV is paused and Coop is on his phone, doing god knows what.
“I was waiting for you,” he tells me and then pulls the sheets back and pats the mattress.
I fidget with the towel around my waist. “I’m not getting into bed with you.”
He rolls his eyes and nods toward the space beside him.
“Get in here, Matthew. I’m not arguing with you over this.”
With a huff, I grab a pair of boxers and throw them on before ditching the towel and doing as he says. It’s only when I’m under the sheets that I realize he’s still hogging all the pillows.
But it seems he has a solution to that as well.
“Put your head right here.”
He points to his lap, and I snort. “Fuck you. I’m not doing that.”
He just calmly looks at me, waiting patiently, a smirk on his face.
I roll my eyes as I flop over, my head resting against the comforter on top of his thighs.
“Good boy,” he says softly as I move around, trying to get comfortable.
“Do not call me that,” I say with a grumble. I’m not a boy and there’s no way in hell I’m good. But Coop just ignores me like he always does and slips his hand into my hair.
I still, my heart thundering in my chest.
