Page 68 of Collin: Episodes 4-6
“Down.”
Collin half knelt, half fell, but Damian’s hands slowed his descent. He ended up on all fours in the shower.
“You’re cold, Collin. You can urinate in the shower as much as you can the toilet.”
“B-but, that’s…not right.”
“It’s sterile. I’ll clean up afterwards.”
“No.”
“Not your choice, Collin. It’s mine. We both fucked up. And neither of us is going to hide from that.” Soft canvas wrapped around Collin’s wrists.
“What are you doing?”
“Cuffing you. Are you safe wording?”
“No!”
“Then hold still.” Damian finished fixing the cuffs on Collin’s wrists. He pulled Collin’s shirt over his head.
“Cold.” The word was barely intelligible, coming from between Collin’s teeth as they rattled against each other.
“I know. That’s why we’re in the shower. I’ll get the warm water running in a moment.
“Can’t—wear—cuffs—in the shower!”
“Oh, sweet summer child,” Damian murmured. “These are shower cuffs. They’re designed for it. Hands up.”
Collin glanced upward as Damian pulled. There was a hook in the wall above his head. Damian dragged Collin’s cuffed and linked wrists up to the same level and latched them there.
Collin’s belly heaved. Now he couldn’t even rub the salt that was irritating his cheeks away. He was naked, on his knees, in a shower with Damian looking down at him, a sad, worried look in his eye.
“You need to pee, Collin.”
“Can’t with you standing there!”
Damian crouched down and grabbed Collin’s dick in his hand, pointing it in the general direction of the drain. “Pee.”
Collin’s entire body rebelled. How could he urinate with someone else holding his dick and his hands stretched above his head? And that wasn’t to mention the fact that his body seemed to have decided that there was entirely too much going on for urination to be an available body function.
Mr. Reevesworth stepped into the bathroom, holding a tray with mango juice, tea, and a pitcher of water. “He may have held it too long. Start with getting more liquid in him and warming him up. It’s hard to let go when you’re shivering as hard as he is.”
Damian plucked at his shirt. “Can I strip out of my clothes, sir? This is cashmere.”
Mr. Reevesworth inclined his head. Damian stepped out of the shower and made short work of getting down to bare skin, underwear banished to the floor as well. Every part of him was perfect, round, lush, and muscular. Where Mr. Reevesworth was long planes of hard muscle, Damian was beautifully opposite. Tight dark hair darkened his chest, arms, and legs, and a dark mat of neatly trimmed curls made a lawn around his genitals.
As if Collin needed to feel any worse about himself. He hung his head and closed his eyes.
Damian stepped into the shower radiating heat. Water spat out of the detachable showerhead, hitting the far wall but not Collin. And then it was on his chest, running down his thighs. All he wanted to do was curl up and press into it.
But of course, he couldn’t. He was cuffed.
Damian slid his hand under Collin’s jaw and tilted his head up, pressing the rim of a mug against Collin’s lips. “Drink.”
Collin’s belly flexed. He wanted to say no. He wanted to jerk his head away. Any single sip was going to force the issue and strip away whatever dignity he might have left. The water from before was already pushing it.
“Drink, Collin. That’s not a suggestion.”
