Chapter 59
He cleaned them both up, with that lingering poignant ache in his chest. He washed Colby’s bare skin, under liquid topaz lamplight; he was as gentle as he could be with muscles and places that’d been so thoroughly surrendered, and also with the dwindling bruises, yellow and green over fairness. He cuddled Colby, who leaned sleepily and trustingly against him, and washed that sweat-damp tangle of hair, and kissed the top of Colby’s head.
He kept Colby warm, and safe, and loved.
He carried Colby back to bed after, naked, and tucked them both under blankets. He ran a hand over Colby’s body, and marveled at that for a minute: Colby here, pliant and sated and miraculous, in his bed. In his arms. And he, Jason, had just taken such good care of this man.
He’d do it again. He’d do it forever. And Colby would do that for him, because Colby knew what Jason needed, and rescued him time after time.