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"Bar soap?" I slur. "Is that even a thing anymore?"

He laughs. "For a house full of guys, yeah."

"Whatever." I let my eyes slide shut in bliss as he rubs the bubbles into my skin. "I have proof that you all own conditioner. You're not as rugged as you seem."

"No," he admits, voice soft. "Not all the time, we aren't."

His touch on my body is sensual without being specifically arousing. With gentle hands, he cleans my face and breasts. My nipples hum with awareness when he strokes them with his palms. My hips are tender, fingerprint bruises rising on pale flesh, and I probably shouldn't be as pleased by that as I am.

"Here." He urges me to lean back against the wall.

I brace my head against the corner of the shower, too tired to bear its weight. Once I'm stable, he sinks to his knees, and I can't help it. My pussy gives a little throb at the image of him there. He spreads my legs and gently cleans me up. All the come the othermen left in me washes away. The warm air on my sensitive flesh sends another tremor through me.

He lifts his gaze and raises a brow. "You need anything?"

"Need? No." Definitely not. "Want?…"

He licks his lips and pauses, his hand right there, thumb inches from my clit. "Yeah?"

I nod. "Yeah."

So slowly, so gently, he parts my folds. His thumb traces a soft line through my lower lips. I tremble at the touch, everything raw, and yet it still manages to feel good.

It feels even better when he replaces his thumb with his tongue.

Humming, I drop my head back against the tile. I'm really glad he's the one perennially clean-shaven guy in the house, because I'm not sure I could take any beard burn right now.

With soft strokes of his tongue, he builds a low pleasure in me. I'm all used up and rung out, but I'm still capable of ascending. Moaning his name, I thread my fingers in his hair.

I don't even know how long he eats me out. He presses a single finger inside and crooks it, and yes, yes—that's just enough.

A slow, rolling orgasm pulses through me. He licks me through it.

When I find the strength to do so, I open my eyes. He's still kneeling on the ground, lips red and eyes lidded.

Between his legs, he's hard.

I motion in the general direction of his arousal and then my wet, blissed-out cunt. "You wanna?"

He frowns. "You've got to be sore."

"So be gentle with me." I beckon him up. He rises, and I take his cock in my hand, giving it a long, languorous stroke. "Come on. It'll feel good. I want you to."

Apparently, that's too tempting of an offer to resist. He kisses me nice and slow, then puts his hands on my thighs.

A low shelf set into the wall of the shower ends up being the perfect height. He hoists me onto it, and I spread my legs.

He fits inside so easily. It's good to be full again, and yeah, I'm sore, but it doesn't matter. Kissing my mouth wetly, he thrusts in and out, slow and easy.

We fuck like that for the longest time. Every motion of his body feels good. When he starts to get close, he sneaks a hand in between us. The gentle pressure on my clit is more than enough.

"Come with me," I gasp, wet, into his ear.

We climax together. He moans my name, pushing in deep before finally going still.

Pressing his head to the tile behind us, he takes a moment to catch his breath. Then he peels away and kisses me again.

"I'm really glad you decided to stay with us," he says. His mouth curls up into a crooked grin. "And I'm really glad I got to have another turn."