Warm
A hot shower.
Such a luxury, he feels like a king. He's been seven years taking the cold leavings or doing without, or worst of all being forced to sit under another convict and wash in his dirty dregs. But this...a single, hot, all-by-his-lonesome shower, not another soul in sight (though Joe's in the living room, well within safe earshot), this is heaven.
He turns the water on as high as it will go, strips down and steps into the pounding spray. It eases nightmare-tense muscles in his back and shoulders, pure liquid heat sluicing down his body, soothing away the dark of night. Joe's good at keeping the nightmares away, but nobody's perfect.
Safety has begun to frighten him just a little. He didn't believe it at first, shuffling like he still had shackles on, walking with his head hung low. He would wake up panting, so sure was he that it was all a dream and he was still pinioned beneath Mike's heavy, snoring body, one of hundreds of nameless faces on the block. Just another bitch.
But here...he can dress and undress with impunity, eat when he wants to, sleep when he likes, never again worry about getting caught with Mike's dick up his ass, never again fear "segregation", their pretty euphemism for solitary.
Of course, he has yet to find a job, but all things in good time, right? It seems these days no one can find a job, such a change from the healthy market he left.
He ponders these things in the shower, until a shadow makes itself known against the curtain.
Joe.
"Hey," he turns the water off. But Joe's taking off his shirt now, and Lou realizes what he has in mind.
"Leave it on." Joe purrs. Oh, but he loves it when Joe seems to read his mind like this.
So on goes the water again, and Lou closes his eyes until he feels Joe's bare arms slide around him, Joe's hairy chest tickles his back and Joe's hard on presses against his ass. He opens his eyes against the cascade of water. Everything blurred, heat rising through his body, more than from the water, heat from inside.
"You washed yet?" Joe asks huskily, wetly, at his ear.
"No..."
"You mind if I...?" An awkward question. Does he mind? He remembers taking baths with Joe as a child, the both of them squealing and splashing without a care. How different this is...
"Go ahead..." he breathes, shudders really, as Joe reaches up to the shower rack for a bar of soap and touches the cold, slippery bar to his skin. Joe rubs in slow, even circles over his chest, runs his nails tenderly, lightly through the lather, tweaks a nipple, soothes it with the cool soap. All the while Joe's lips are on his neck and ear and his dick is hard against him and Lou's knees feel like jello, while the soap is stroking all over his body, every place he never knew was that sensitive until Joe touched him.
"You like that, buddy?"
"God, yeah..."
Finally, oh, finally when Lou is leaning back into that wonderful mouth and the water is pounding into his eyes and ears and the world is noise and blurs and touch, lovely, beautiful touch, finally Joe's touching his dick, slicking it between hand and soap. Lou twitches, actually twitches, shakes and shivers and pants hard, harder, whimpers when Joe's hands leave him and the soaps gone, just arms clasped loosely around his waist.
"Wanna fuck?"
Does he need to ask?
"Oh, jesus..." He's so hard it aches, and he wants Joe so bad.
"Or maybe you want me to suck you off?" He punctuates his question with a quick nip-lick at Lou's ear. Lou groans.
"Please..."
Joe strokes the very tip of his dick with his thumb, drawing a matching line up the back of his ear with his tongue. Lou whimpers and claws at Joe.
"Fucking please..." he begs.
"How `bout this, buddy..." he murmurs. "I'll suck you," rubbing his dick gently, drawing on the underside with his nails, "slow. Then fuck you. Is that okay, buddy?"
He hasn't been fucked since Mike. But this is Joe, who he's trusted and loved for one helluva lot longer than he even knew Mike. It'll be okay, he tells himself, it'll be okay. "O-okay..." he stammers. He feels thirteen. This feels like the first time. Only better, because they know what they're doing.
Joe slides around in front of him and he backs up, fingers splayed hard against the back wall of the shower. The water is pounding Joe's back and bouncing back up as he kneels in front of him. Funny how Lou thinks how much the hard floor of the tub must hurt Joe's knees. But then, a tentative lick to the head of his dick and he's jelly again, panting and gritting his teeth. Joe sucks him like he promised, slow and easy, sucking hard and then soothing little explosions of pleasure with his tongue, dancing around the head of his dick, Joe's hands pressed against his hipbones, the steam in his lungs and the heat all around and in them. Joe does things he didn't think were possible, makes him feel like chaos packed in a loose bag of bones and skin, all gunpowder and sparks.
He can't take it. With a grunting, groaning, helpless
"Oh god--"
Joe--
"Ooh..."
help--
"aauowgh..."
me.
He cums hard, hands dug deep into Joe's wet hair, both of them panting, Joe kissing his belly, kissing him, warm and salty-heavy. Heavy lidded blue eyes watch him closely and a hand brushes the hair off his forehead. Another kiss, deep, sucking and full of promises. Joe trails one hand down his back and plays at the small of his back, just above his ass.
"Wanna fuck now?" He asks. "Want me to fuck you, Louie?"
"Yeah." And he does. Joe hasn't made love to him in a long time. He remembers how good it feels, memories bleeding into the pain of Mike's fierce fucks, the suffocation of his face jammed into the pillow and his arms pinioned behind his back, oh, please, Joe, one thing--"Just not here. Not...here..." he whispers. The white tiles are too much pounding on his brain. "Please. In the bed."
"Okay, buddy. Whatever you want." Hands in his hair again, kissing him softly, lips only.
They step out, wrapped around each other, and Joe pulls a towel from the rack, rumpling Lou's hair with it. Lou kisses him again, enjoying the softness of his lips and the taste, something sweet and musky and a little sour, saliva and traces of his own cum.
They dry each other off, each taking a towel and time, savoring each other's bodies. Joe leads Lou into the bedroom and they drop the towels on the way, and then there's an awkward bit of silence.
"It's been a while," Lou says softly.
"Yeah." Joe agrees. "You sure this is okay?"
"Yeah." He wraps his arms around Joe's waist and pulls him close. "It's okay, Joe. Let me see you and I think it'll be okay."
Joe takes his hands, which are shaking. Kisses him. "I ain't gonna hurt you, Lou. Don't worry."
"Okay." The memories of Mike are sour on the back of his brain, a rotten taste at the base of his tongue. He forces them out and away. Joe is here. His brother, who's always scared away the nightmares, even when they were little. Lou tries to think of the last time Joe fucked him, at his old apartment, before he got caught. Remembers the thick, soft quilt that Nonna had made, remembers the feel of it against his bare back. Remembers how his eyes were closed when Joe came inside him. Safe. Warm. Soft. He keeps repeating the words inside his head, damn the memories to hell. Joe is here.
"You okay, buddy?" Joe's kissing his eyelids, and he realizes that he's shut his eyes at some point. Tightly. Blindly he kisses Joe's face, neck.
"Yeah, I'm okay. C'mon." He tugs him to the bed and lies down, on his back, and Joe crawls on top of him, brush of bodies, tantalizing whispers of skin on skin. Joe crawls to the nightstand and pulls out a tube of lube, yeah, that's good.
Lou tries to slow his breathing. He can't tell if it's lust or fear. Maybe it's both.
But he can see Joe's face. And it's Joe, not Mike, touching his quaking belly like he's some wild horse, easing him, calming him. Whispering to him.
"I'll go slow, okay? Keep my eyes on you the whole time, buddy."
"S-sure." His mouth is dry. Please Joe. Stay Joe. Stay.
Lou watches Joe rub lube all over his dick, a thick smearing of it, while he uses his free hand to touch Lou all over his chest and stomach and sides, just touch, easy, slow, maddening touch.
"I ain't gonna hurt you."
"I know." And he does. He really does. Joe's never hurt him before.
He knows it.
Joe leans down, so they're breathing practically the same air, eyes on his as he slides a finger into him slow and easy, and his breath catches hard like a memory biting down on his brain, no, no, stop, wait, don't listen, don't...
He opens his eyes because Joe's mouth is tight on his. There's a second finger in his ass. It doesn't hurt. It's okay, he tells himself. His breathing is fast through his nose. It's okay. He kisses Joe back, slides his tongue into his mouth, licks his teeth, tastes the sweetness of him. Third finger, in and out, a slow, gentle rhythm. In time with his steadily slowing breath. In time with the easing beat of his heart. The comforter is soft beneath his bare back, Joe's hands and body are warm, he is safe.
Safe.
Mike is not here. Mike cannot hurt him. No matter what the memories say.
Joe's fingers leave him and he speaks through the kiss--"I'm gonna fuck you now, okay buddy?"
His breath quickens again as he tells himself, scolds himself, no, it'll be fine, this is Joe of all people, Joe, safe, warm, soft, safe...he feels Joe easing into him, tenses, whimpers, feels tears come to his eyes because he wants this, oh god, he wants it so much it hurts, wants...what he doesn't...he doesn't know what...but he wants Joe. He feels Joe kissing his eyelids again. He's inside him, not moving, just kissing. Hands run up and down his sides. Nothing bad is happening. He opens his eyes and Joe's blue ones are watching him, and Joe smiles a little.
"It's okay, Louie. See?"
He nods, not trusting his voice.
Joe begins to move, draw and thrust, in and out, ease and back, gentle and slow. Lou closes his eyes and breathes to the rhythm, just like he did with Joe's fingers, it's okay, it's okay, just telling himself that. The friction makes him hard again, Joe makes him hard anyway, Joe's slow rocking way of fucking him, back and forth, and the pooling pleasure at the base of his spine every time in and out and god, this feels so good...
He opens his eyes and Joe's still watching him, eyes glazed to a dull steel grey, but watching him, mouth open, and Lou captures it in a kiss and throws his arms around his brother, gripping tight. Joe moves a little faster at this, but never too fast. Lou pants with the hot, rising heat of it. It feels like lead lava pooling in his limbs, heavy and hot, but feathers in his belly, buoyantly light. It's warm and soft and safe. And Joe. Always there.
"Joe..." he groans.
Joe grunts and a bead of sweat drips off his forehead and onto Lou's face, where it trickles down onto the pillow.
Safe.
Warm.
Fuck me, Joey.
"F-fuck..." he moans. "Fuck..."
Joe's body tightens under his arms and hands, muscles turning rock hard, back knotting, even as he feels his own body grow hot and taut with pleasure, even as he groans and pulls Joe to him, one last thrust...
He comes. So does Joe, and his eyes are open. Just like his promise.
"...keep my eyes on you..."
Pupils dilate, his mouth opens wide and a low groan rips out and he bares his teeth and collapses on top of Lou.
"...the whole time..."
They're both panting and covered in sweat and cum.
"Love you, Lou." Joe murmurs, rolling off him. Smiling in that silly after-sex sort of way he has. Familiar. Joe runs a hand down his chest, rakes his fingers through the hair around his navel. Slow and easy.
"Love you, too." He smiles, kisses him. Eyes closed. Trusting.
Warm.
Safe.