Krem took Thomas's hand gently and headed into the bathroom. He made no comment on the disarray of it, the dirty clothes piled on the floor or the scattering of his toiletries. He just stepped into the shower, pulling Thomas along with him, and started it running with a soft, affectionate smile on his face.
Given the peace of it, the moment of solitude and bald curiosity, Krem traced Thomas's moles and freckles, the wiry definition of muscle in his arms and chest, the small smattering of scars that must have had stories but Krem wasn't sure which had stories that Thomas remembered. He compared everything against his own--the deeper olive tone of his skin and more pronounced scars, some of them newer than others.
He turned, putting his back to Thomas, letting the water run over his face and his hair and down his back. His tattoo, between his shoulder blades, was done healing, sitting colorfully between them, the crook and flail crossed over each other.
no subject
Given the peace of it, the moment of solitude and bald curiosity, Krem traced Thomas's moles and freckles, the wiry definition of muscle in his arms and chest, the small smattering of scars that must have had stories but Krem wasn't sure which had stories that Thomas remembered. He compared everything against his own--the deeper olive tone of his skin and more pronounced scars, some of them newer than others.
He turned, putting his back to Thomas, letting the water run over his face and his hair and down his back. His tattoo, between his shoulder blades, was done healing, sitting colorfully between them, the crook and flail crossed over each other.