“I need to shower,” Charlie said. “Your dad had the right idea, putting a shower in here. I don’t want to go back to my apartment after all this…stuff we’ve been doing…you know what I mean?”
I did.
There was a long bench to the side of the shower. Charlie walked over to the bench, casually shrugged off his clothes and stepped under the steaming hot water. For a long time, I stood there and watched. And admired. And lusted—my cock was harder than a pocket full of hammers. But it was more than just lust, I knew. There was something deeper, and purer, and truer.
Love?
I knew it was, but I didn’t want to admit it. I wasn’t ready. I felt protective of this young man. Connected. Intertwined. Enthralled. Smitten. But also detached, and careful, as though I were in the presence of something extremely valuable and fragile and precious.
“Why don’t you come join me?” he called from across the room.
I did.