Page 4 of Coming to Grips
“Can you stand up?”
With a nod, Chase pushes to his feet, but sways slightly.Concussion, right.He reaches out his good hand to the wall and anchors himself.
Kyle hovers in the shower doorway, but doesn’t touch him.
“Geeze, I need help like a freaking kid graduating from baths to showers.”
“It’s going to take some time, Chase,” Kyle says softly. “Don’t beat yourself up. All the firsts are going to be tough. The seconds probably will be too.”
“Easy for you to say—you’re not the one who’s got to deal with it.”
Kyle takes a breath. A deep one since Chase hears it over the spray of the shower. “I’m the one standing in the shower with you, dude. I’m the one driving you to rehab. I’m the one—”
“Fuck,” Chase says softly as his stomach sinks and his eyes burn. The events of the last couple of days swirl around him like a dust devil. Shit, he can’t fucking cry right now. On top of everything else, that’d just be embarrassing. He shakes his head. “You’re right. Shit. I’m sorry.” Chase drops his chin to his chest and scrunches his eyes closed. His shoulder hurts. His knee hurts. His ribs hurt. His head hurts. Part of him wishes he was still in a relationship. A nice warm body to curl up against after his shower would ease the rest of his woes. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Kyle says gently. “Now, get under the spray. I’m going to help this time.”
Chase straightens and steps under the full flow of the water and sighs. The heat and the pounding pressure feel so damned good. He hadn’t been in the hospital long enough to merit a shower. They’d only cleaned him up to diagnose and patch him up, but he’s still grimy from his header in the paddock.
The hot water soaks into his scalp, hot enough to make his skin tingle. It sluices over his face, shoulders, and on down his body. He revels in it and tips his face up and away from his useless arm where the sensation of running water disappears disconcertingly at his elbow.
Kyle undresses, but leaves on his boxer briefs, and steps into the stall behind him. Chase’s own nakedness has never been a source of embarrassment until now. It’s not that he’s embarrassed exactly, but Kyle is in the shower with him and that’s not what they do. Kyle is gay…does he find Chase attractive? Chase fights the blush, ignores the blush. Kyle’s already in here with him, has already seen everything there is to see.
Kyle’s smooths Chase’s hair back from his forehead. “I’m going to wash your hair.”
Chase nods. The shampoo bottle snaps open, then closed again. Kyle works the shampoo into his hair, digs his fingers into the flesh, scrubs and rubs Chase’s head with firm movements of his fingers.
Chase closes his eyes and tries not to groan aloud at the sensation. He loves scalp massages and the ones he gets at the haircutting place in Ten Rigs are way too short. Kyle’s fingers are blunt and strong, and his nails are just long enough to scrape pleasantly along Chase’s scalp. Pleasure ripples through him.
Kyle is thorough, Chase’ll give him that, hands scooping suds back from his forehead, scrubbing, scooping, rubbing, until he pushes Chase back under the water and rinses out the shampoo.
There’s a lack of touch for a moment and then another plastic pop echoes in the stall and the bottle of shower gel appears in Chase’s field of vision, Kyle’s hand tilting it sideways. “Here.”
Chase accepts a dollop of icy blue gel, the scent matching Kyle’s inexpensive grocery store cologne. It smells sporty and clean and like Kyle. Chase immediately feels looser, less tense than he had a few minutes ago.
“Wash whatever you can reach,” Kyle says. “I’ll wash your back.”
Chase rubs the gel against his abs to lather it up and then smooths the suds over his neck, chest, stomach and right arm. Kyle’s hands slick down Chase’s sides, rub over his back, shoulders and hips, and swipe lightly across his butt cheeks. Chase jolts in surprise. “Hey.”
“Hey, what? Lift your arms.” Kyle runs his hands over the wet hair of Chase’s armpits and down his sides. Chase probably looks like a scarecrow with his elbows out and forearms dangling.
“Rinse off,” says Kyle as he slicks something between his hands. When Chase steps backwards, he rubs it into Chase’s hair. Conditioner. Kyle’s fingertips massage again and pleasure skates through Chase once more.
“Shut your eyes,” Kyle says right before nudging him under the spray again. Once the conditioner has been rinsed from Chase’s hair, Kyle turns off the water, swivels Chase around, and pushes him out the shower door.
Chase grabs his towel and dries his face, chest, neck and shoulders, while Kyle does the same to himself as if on a two second time-delay instant replay. Then he pats down Chase’s back, butt, and the backs of his legs, before swiping the towel down his sides and right arm. Lastly, he scrubs Chase’s head, leaving his hair standing up in spikes.
Chase’s relaxed state morphs quickly into frustration, however, as he tries to hold the towel in place with his useless right hand. He can’t get enough pressure against his hip to keep it in place and tuck the other end in. Kyle watches him struggle for a moment, before pushing at his shoulder. “Turn around.”
Chase does so reluctantly. He’s naked, Kyle isn’t. He’s slightly firm from Kyle’s touch, but, thankfully, not obviously hard. Sure, they’d showered after practices and games back in high school, but that was ten years ago and they’d been surrounded by the team then. This is a little more up close and personal than Chase is used to. Kyle pins the terrycloth against Chase’s hip and tucks the corner in, and that’s that.
Chase clears his throat, unable to meet Kyle’s gaze. “Thanks. I’ll just, uh, head to bed.”
Kyle nods, securing his own towel. “Okay. Night then.”
“G’night,” Chase says and rushes from the bathroom.
“Chase...” Kyle calls.
Chase stops, but doesn’t turn around.
“If you need help with anything else, let me know.”
“I’ll be fine,” Chase says, grudgingly. Then remorse washes over him. None of this is Kyle’s fault. He sighs. “But thanks,” he offers in a softer tone. “See you in the morning.”
