Page 39 of His Country
Bracing himself on the wall, he got to his feet. Tucking himself away, he felt Eagle’s glare on his back. The gelding had probably not enjoyed the show and was grumpy about being stuck in his stall.
Sorting himself out, he tried to peel the shirt from his stomach but the drying cum was like adhesive. Grimacing, he looked around for his jacket.
“Hey,” Ethan called softly, catching Aiden’s hand. “Let me clean you up.”
“I don’t need?—”
“Yeah, but I do.” Ethan looked a little sheepish, his thumb rubbing along the thin skin of Aiden’s wrist. “I need to take care of you.”
Aiden would like to say it was the sudden vulnerability in Ethan—the way his eyes darted away whenever he caught them, or the slump to his shoulders. He’d like to say he agreed as a favor to Ethan.
But the truth was harder for him to accept. The truth was that he wanted Ethan to take care of him. Just for a little while. He could have it if he didn’t think about it.
Ethan had a tattoo.
Aiden knew that. Somewhere in the back of his mind where information like Mendel and his plants were stored, he knew Ethan had a tattoo. He’d seen the ink peeking out from under rolled up sleeves. A tease, but not the full picture. Never the full picture. Winter prevented that. Thick coats ate up every inch of vulnerable skin. Obscuring the things that Aiden would like to know.
But he could see it now.
Bathed in the low light from the cracked bathroom door, surrounded by skin rosy from a quick scrubbing, the black lines lay stark where they hugged the curve of his bicep. It caught his eye the moment Ethan stepped out of the bathroom with just a pair of Aiden’s shorts, skin still tacky and hair falling into his eyes. Now he couldn’t stop looking at it.
He wanted to trace it with his fingers. Close his eyes and see if he could find it. Like a blind man reading braille, see if he could map it out from memory of if the skin felt different where the ink had healed.
Ethan had insisted on getting some sleep. He dragged them to the empty bunkhouse with Sugar in tow. While Aiden fed her, Ethan took a quick shower and then commanded he do the same. He didn’t suggest taking a shower together and Aiden didn’t know how to feel about that. Didn’t they cross some kindof line? The line where he’d seen Ethan’s dick before the tattoo on his arm had been crossed and he was moving in the blank spot of a map. A place no Cartographer had ever discovered and now he was directionless, wondering if the compass still pointed north or if he was in some new kind of polarity.
Did he even want to shower with Ethan? He wasn’t sure. Even when he lingered in the shower, reading the back of his 3-in-1 soap hoping to find the answers somewhere between the conditioner and body wash. Showering with someone felt invasive. More so than grinding against each other in the barn. Like that could be excused by horniness. An inevitability that they’d run into. But showering with someone felt decisive. Taking off their clothes, turning on the water, waiting until it was hot, stepping in, sharing the spray because it was too narrow for them both to get wet at the same time. There were a dozen purposeful steps to get there, all done sober and without excuse.
And now he was lying on his narrow bunk, staring down at Ethan’s tattoo and still wondering if he was allowed to touch it. There was an extra bunk, Ethan could be sleeping in unsullied sheets, but he crawled into Aiden’s. Lifted the blankets and scooted over until his back hit the wall and Aiden slid in, keeping himself pressed against the railing, trying not to touch Ethan because he didn’t know if he could.
But he wanted to. Even as Ethan’s eyes drooped and he drifted off, one hand under the pillow and the other resting in the space between them, fingers slightly curled until they made dimples in the sheets. The blanket was only pulled up to his hips, leaving his top half exposed.
He hadn’t said a word when Aiden dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, just watched him with that smirky expression he had. When his eyes were half lidded but his lips were curled with mischief. Like he was seeing right through Aiden’s insecurities but allowing them to go unchecked out of the goodness of hisheart. Ethan didn’t even mention the sliver of space between them, just huffed a little laugh and fell asleep with his damp hair dripping onto the pillow.
It took him a while to figure out what the tattoo was. Taking up most of his bicep, it was a black and white canine skull with flowers. The petals grew from cracks and sutures in the skull and between the teeth, curling around the head like a crown. It was beautiful.
“Do you like it?” Ethan whispered, even though they were both awake and the door was locked. Maybe he didn’t want to disturb Sugar, who was sleeping on the rug beside the fireplace.
“Yes.”
Ethan shifted to look at his arm, as if he hadn’t seen it before. A small smile flickered across his face. “I got it because?—”
“I know why you got it.” Aiden cut him off, eyes glued to the tattoo. “The flowers are for your grandmother’s garden. It died, but in death there is life. You’re hoping it’ll come back.”
For the first time since Aiden had met him, Ethan was speechless. His arm held out at an odd angle, twisted so they could see the tattoo, but his attention was on Aiden. There was no hint of mischief on his face.
It felt strange to be the one to knock Ethan off kilter. It was normally the other way around.
Ethan cleared his throat. “Or maybe I just liked the way it looked.”
“Or maybe you’re an ass.”
Laughing, he closed the distance between them and kissed Aiden. Easy as breathing, with his lips curved in a smile and eyes open. Soft and chaste, like kissing him was natural.
“A possum.”
Aiden peeked up at him. “What?”
“You remind me of a possum.” Ethan laughed at the look on Aiden’s face. “You’re all hissing and bitey until you get really scared. Then you play dead.”