3The characters, events, and organizations portrayed in this narrative are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or individuals is purely coincidental.
All characters and plot are purely of my own imagination and design. Do not steal/modify. If you ask nicely, I may let you play with them. (As long as I get to watch)
This work of fiction contains content involving male homosexuality which may or may not include sexual relations between 2 or more men. If this offends you or isn't really your cup of tea, feel free to leave. Flaming will not be tolerated.
Author's Notes: Was written for a writing prompt and cleaned up. And yes, I know it is fluffy.
"In short, he says you'll live." Mark chuckled softly as the doctor left, pulling the curtain closed.
Josh looked at him like he was crazy. "Of course I'm going to live, dumbass. It's a sprained ankle. How many people do you know die of sprained ankles?"
"None that I can think of. At least you are fortunate enough to be able to hobble around on crutches for the next few days."
"Oh yes, that sounds like so much fun. Especially when you were always the one with the upper body strength. I'm a runner. What do I need upper body strength for? I can just see myself trying to hobble up the stairs to our flat."
"Well," said Mark grinning ear to ear, "I could always carry you up the stairs,"
"What, like a bride on her wedding night? I'm not wearing a white dress for anybody, not even you."
"Ha, you would look so hot in white, though." Mark feigned a pout for a moment before he cracked a smile. "No, I was thinking more fireman over the shoulder thing."
"Yeah, just like a sack of potatoes. Of course, my head would be right near your..."
"Don't try and pretend like that would bother you. It's not like you haven't seen it before."
"Good point. And it's not like I wouldn't mind seeing it again." The look on Josh's face was evil and Mark could almost swear he heard the gears turning in the other's head.
"What are you thinking?" Mark knew he didn't really have to ask. He had a pretty good idea he knew what was going though Josh's head.
"Remember," Josh started, his voice low, "that time when you came home from a really brutal practice session and went straight upstairs to take a shower, not even saying hello."
"Yes," Mark breathed, knowing exactly where this story was going.
"And you were already soaping up by the time I had stripped and stepped in the shower behind you."
Feeling a flush starting to heat up his face, Mark shifted in his chair, nervously looking below the edge of the curtain to make sure no one was coming.
"Remember how I licked the rivulets of water off your neck, my hands grabbing your hips, holding you against me?"
Mark exhaled audibly. He could remember much more than that. Hot, wet kisses as Josh pushed him against the shower wall. Soapy fingers running between the cheeks of his bottom. Josh kneeling in front of him, grasping him with a slick hand, taking the tip of him into his mouth… A screaming child brought him sharply back to reality. "Shush! We are in a hospital! With no doors, just curtains."
"And your point is?"
"Wow, well at least I know you don't have a concussion or anything. You're still as perverted as ever."
"You know you like it."
"Yes, yes I do. Maybe not so much in public, but yes, I like it."
"Yeah, you always were the shy, conservative one."
"And you were always the 'Loud and Proud' type."
"But that works for me, just like shy works for you. It's one of the many reasons I love you."
Mark nuzzled Josh's cheek with his thumb. "I love you, too."
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