Chapter 6: Hot Water

I woke on Wednesday with a bruise on my neck the size of his mouth and every muscle in my legs complaining.

The lamps were on. The bed was empty. Through the wall I heard the shower running.

I lay there for a long minute and thought about the stairs.

Then I got up and went in.

The bathroom was white tile with three lights over the mirror, all of them burning, and a glass shower with the door half open.

Levan stood under the water with his hands braced on the wall and his head down.

The scar on his face showed pale against the heat of his skin.

Water ran down his back, over the muscle of his shoulders and the long old scar on his ribs.

I stood in the doorway and looked at him.

I had not been able to look at him on the stairs.

"You're staring," he said, without turning around.

"You can't see me."

"I can feel you."

I took off his shirt, which I had put on in the night, and dropped it on the tile, and walked into the shower.

He turned.

His eyes went down my body and up again, and stopped at my neck.

"I marked you," he said.

"I told you to."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be."

He lifted his hand and touched the bruise with two fingers, so lightly I could barely feel it.

"I'll be careful of you today," he said.

"I don't want you careful."

"I want to wash your hair."

That stopped me.

Nobody had washed my hair since my mother, when I was nineteen and she was too sick to stand, and I had washed hers.

"Later," I said, and my voice was not steady. "First I want something."

I put my palms flat on his chest and pushed him back against the tile.

The water ran over his shoulders and into my face.

I slid down his body, slowly, with my mouth on his skin, his chest, the hard muscle of his stomach, the ridge of his hip.

I went to my knees on the wet floor.

He was already hard, thick and heavy against his belly, his cock dark and the head slick with more than water.

"Beridze," he said. "You don't have to."

"Shut up, Kapanadze."

I took him in my hand and kissed the tip.

His whole body jerked.

I licked the length of him from root to head, slow.

He made a low rough sound and his hand slapped flat against the tile.

"Look at me," I said, and took him into my mouth.

He was hot and salt and velvet and so thick I had to open my jaw wide.

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