Page 65 of Deathless
"There's nothing there." He cupped my cheeks. "The blood's gone. What you're scrubbing at is in your head."
We stayed like that until the water ran cold. I'd scrubbed my hands raw. Jasper got me up, got me dry, and steered me down the corridor to our quarters, the same small room with two cots as before.
I sat down, still wrapped in the towel. Jasper stripped off his soaked clothes, pulled on dry ones from his pack, and came back and sat beside me.
We sat with the silence while I stared at my fucked-up hands.
"I'd do it again," I said. "All three shots. For Eight, for you, for myself. I'd pull that trigger a hundred times if it meant getting her back."
"I know."
"Doesn't make it easier."
"No." He shifted, pressing his shoulder firmer against mine. "But it was the right call."
I looked at him. Water still dripped from his hair. His shirt stuck to his chest where he hadn't dried off completely.
I swallowed around nothing.
His ribs rose and fell against mine, steady, and my breathing started to match without me deciding to.
"Jasper."
He turned his head. Our faces were maybe six inches apart.
"I need..." The words stuck. "I need to feel something else. Anything else. For a little while."
He brought his hand up to my jaw, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone, and I leaned into it. "What do you need?"
"You. Your hands on me. Need to feel alive instead of..." I gestured at myself, at the mess I'd been in the shower. "This."
"I can do that," he said.
He kissed me hard, took my mouth like he'd been holding back and I'd just cut the leash. I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him closer, needing the weight. His jaw worked against mine, his tongue pushed past my teeth, and I opened for him and tookit, took everything. The taste of him flooded in, and for the first time in hours, something besides Patroklos filled my head.
I yanked at his shirt, and he pulled back long enough to strip it off. Then he pressed against me, chest to chest, and the shock of his skin on mine punched the air out of me. He was so fucking warm. I dug my fingers into his back and dragged him closer until there was nothing between us but the towel bunched at my hips.
I grabbed for his belt.
"Diego." He caught my wrists. "Look at me."
I looked up.
"You want me to take over?" he asked.
“Dios, yes. Por favor. I just want to feel.”
He stood and stripped off the rest of his clothes. His cock was already hard, flushed dark against his stomach. I reached for him, but he caught my hand.
"Lie back," he said.
I lay back on the narrow cot. He climbed over me and kissed me again, all tongue and teeth, his weight pinning me to the mattress. I wrapped my arms around him and held on.
He kissed down my throat, my collarbone, the center of my chest. His mouth dragged hot and open against my skin, and where it landed the numb peeled back and left me raw. He bit down on the muscle above my hip, and my back came off the cot.
"Just focus on me," he said against my stomach.
Then he went lower.
