Bringing Him Home by Penny Brandon

if the bruise on his hip was anything to go by. "It'll fade."
    "It shouldn't be there in the first place." The disapproval in Jared's tone hinted at more to come, but he didn't say anything else. Not right then.
    The cooling application of the washcloth resumed. Again Kyle felt its soothing effect, and he closed his eyes in bliss, fully aware of Jared's firm yet gentle touch and thrilling in it even as he began to fret about why Jared was doing this. As the wet cloth moved lower, tracing the top of his ass, Kyle shuddered, becoming more aroused with each featherlight caress. "Tickles," he quickly assured Jared when he thought Jared was going to stop.
    But Jared didn't stop. Rinsing and resoaping, he brought the cloth up and over Kyle's hip, then down the length of his thigh. There was another bruise above his knee that Jared carefully skimmed over, and then with a light pressure of his fingers, he urged Kyle onto his back.
    The sheet that had covered him now lay pooled around his ankles. With the leg not weighed down by the cast, Kyle surreptitiously kicked himself free, uncaring that he now lay fully exposed to Jared's scrutiny. A sudden hiss of sharply indrawn breath had Kyle glancing up at him before following his gaze. His chest was covered in a myriad of dark purple bruises that mottled his skin so it looked as if--well, yeah, a car had run over him.
    "Holy fuck that looks bad," Kyle said, gingerly poking at one particular discoloration just above his right nipple. It hurt, but not overly so. He traced a strip of a lilac-hued contusion closer to his sternum, which had him guessing it was the edge of his laptop digging in as the car rolled over it. Without the computer's solid casing dispersing the pressure across the full width of his chest, Kyle knew the car's weight would have probably killed him. Looking down, he could easily imagine the tire crushing his chest, breaking bone, stopping his heart. He glanced back up at Jared again, a wry grin on his face. "Guess I was lucky, huh?"
    The look of horror in Jared's eyes made Kyle regret saying anything. Shit. But he couldn't disguise his elation at being alive. "They'll fade," he told Jared again. "And my ankle will heal. I'll soon be as good as new again."
    "And then what?"
    Kyle stared into Jared's expressive eyes. Gold flecks seemed to dance in the illumination coming from the overhead light, while shifts of green and blue vied for dominance over the brown, which changed from light tawny to dark chocolate. Fuck, his eyes were beautiful.
    "I don't know." He had to be honest, because he didn't know. He didn't know what Jared wanted, and Kyle didn't know what he could give him. Kyle's throat clicked drily as he swallowed. He dropped his gaze, not liking the look of disillusionment on Jared's face or wanting to dwell on why it was there.
    The sound of the cloth being dropped into the bowl, then rinsed and squeezed out told Kyle what to expect, yet he was still surprised when Jared's leisurely bathing continued.
    Trying not to look at Jared directly, Kyle watched how Jared's hands carefully smoothed the soap-laden material in soft circles down his chest and onto his stomach. Occasionally the edge of Jared's palm would touch his skin, or a finger would seem to gently stroke. Every time it happened, Kyle felt the arousal that had begun earlier escalate. As Jared reached lower, Kyle couldn't suppress the shiver that racked his body. Without any conscious thought, he twisted his hip when Jared skated down the joint of torso and thigh. He brought himself closer to Jared's touch, wanting more and no longer afraid to show it, and as the soaped-up cloth slipped beneath his balls and rubbed deliciously against the drawn-up sacs, he couldn't help moaning in appreciation. When Jared left his balls alone and started down his right leg, Kyle wanted to ask him to go back up, then changed his mind when the backs of Jared's fingers slid sensually along the inside of his thigh. He would never