I kiss him back and put my arms around his shoulders. He’s shaking.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Bit cold,” he says. “About done with the water for a minute?”
“Oh yeah,” I answer. “Sure.”
We switch spots and he puts his head under the water. He turns around to face me, and I’m thinking that’s the end of the romantic part of our shower together when he’s reaching out for me again, pulling me toward him.
Only, he doesn’t have the best footing and so he slips a little. He manages to catch himself before he falls, but his reflex to catch himself caused him to pull me a little harder than he’d intended and I’m now shoulder-checking him in the sternum.
I don’t know how, but we don’t fall over. It’s when I run into him, though, that I notice he’s starting to grow hard. Maybe if it were just in the context of my nakedness or our proximity, I’d take it as a compliment; but with as awkward as the lead-up to this particular erection was, it’s more confusing than anything.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I answer, getting my feet more securely under me and taking a step back so he can stand up straight again.
“You think the mood’s killed?” he asks.
I do. I really do.
That’s not what I say, though. Sex, even sex that starts as clumsily as this, is something I know I could really use right now and, from the way Mason feels in my hand, I’d say he’s good to keep going.
“No,” I tell him. “That was just a momentary hiccup. Come here.”
I pull him closer (slowly) and kiss him deeply on the lips, my mouth parting as we come together, and I’m putting one arm back around him.
“That’s better,” I say optimistically as I stroke his dripping wet shaft with my free hand.
“Ah!” he says before a sharp intake of air.
“What?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you wearing a ring right now?” he asks.
“Yeah, I forgot to take it off,” I answer. “I would have once we got in, but I didn’t want to lose it and it’s cold out there so I didn’t want to get back out.” I narrow my eyes a little at him. “Why?”
“It kind of,” he says, “the skin on my—it went between the ring and your… ya caught me a little—”
“Oh!” I say, letting go of him and pulling my hand away. It’s not until he’s saying he’s fine, that he’ll be all right that I realize I’ve just made the very problem he was trying to tell me about much more painful. “Are you all right?” I ask.
“I think so,” he says. “Am I bleeding?”
That’s a question everyone wants to hear when they’re trying to enjoy a little foreplay.
Still, I refuse to believe that this sexual endeavor is hopeless. If Mason and I have one thing, it’s chemistry.
“No, you’re good,” I tell him. “Still wanna…?”
“Hell yeah,” he answers, and this time, I take the ring off the eponymous finger of my right hand and toss it over the shower rod.
It makes a surprisingly loud kerblubb when it lands in the water of the toilet bowl.
Mason asks, “Did you just…?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him and we’re kissing again.
I’m not in denial.