Water. Yeah. Still processing that one.
Colby might be also busy with water. Showering. Right down the hall. Naked and right down the hall.
Jason had absolutely no right to picture that, and did anyway. Couldn’t not.
Steam drifted up to kiss his hair, suggesting more. Colby might be stepping into water too, flushed from heat, pink and bright and pretty, smooth skin slick and gleaming. Colby liked water. Colby might like hands stroking him, lavishing him with soap, cleaning every inch of him. Hands in all that silky dark hair, kneading shampoo through soft strands, letting someone care for him and cherish him and keep him warm, when that someone had just heard a flippant remark about loneliness and wanted Colby to feel not alone—
Someone. Some person. Jason himself. Those were his hands
