Page 118 of Shrapnel

“Just Jamie is fine.”

Owen groaned. “Nope. No. I’m done. Put me down. I need to bleach that shitty line out of my brain.”

They felt to the bed, laughing. Jamie was careful not to hit Owen’s arm, bracketing him with his arms. He looked down and strands of his hair tickled Owen’s lips. He twisted his nose, fighting a sneeze.

“You need a shower.”

“Mhmm,” Jamie agreed, then he winced. “Will you be here when I get back?”

Owen slid his hands around Jamie’s face, cupping his angular jaw gently. He placed a chaste kiss on his lips, tasting flour and smoke.

“Yeah,” Owen assured him. “I’ll always be here, Firebug.”

He did leave. The moment he heard the shower, Owen rolled off the bed and meandered down to the massive Weaver kitchen. He knew Wallace was a stickler, but he did have one wicked habit.

A chocolatey good one.

Owen returned to the room just as the shower shut off, the carton of ice cream and one spoon resting on the bed beside him. Jamie exited the shower in a puff of steam, rubbing a towel over his wet hair. He had also raided the drawers, wearing a pair of low slung running shorts. Owen felt his eyes drop to Jamie’s lean stomach. He wasn’t cut like a gym bro. The indentations of his muscles were subtle, more slender and gamey than bulging biceps. Sleek like a predator.

The complete opposite of Owen, who could best be described as the poster boy for a sedentary lifestyle. He tugged at his large white shirt self-consciously.

Jamie’s eyes lit on the ice cream and he made a pleased noise in the back of his throat, letting the towel fall to the ground behind him. Owen was about to offer him a spoon when he noticed his nipple piercing.

“What is that?!” he hissed in surprise.

Jamie looked down at the piercing. “A nipple piercing?”

“W-Why do you have it?”

But what Owen was really thinking was,what does it taste like?He felt his cheeks go scarlet. He didn’t have those thoughts. Owen was…well he wasn’t a puritan. But he was hardly someone who had intrusive sexual thoughts like that. Especially abouta guy.

Jamie shrugged as he climbed onto the mattress, smelling like soap. “I thought it would hurt.”

Owen numbly handed him the spoon, eyes firmly affixed to the little pink numb with the silver bar through it. His mouth was dry. “Did it?”

Breaking into the top layer of frosty chocolate ice cream, Jamie nodded. “Yep.”

Shifting to hide his increasing interest, Owen tried to focus on what Jamie said. He had never met anyone who wanted to hurt. Worry began to gnaw at Owen. There was so much about Jamie he didn’t understand. Jackson said he asked for the bruises. Did Jamie like pain? And if he did, would he like Owen? Owen with his soft body and anxiety. He wasn’t jacked or tatted. He didn’t have the angry eyebrows. Or the blood lust.

Jamie inhaled as the chocolate ice cream melted on his tongue. Making happy noises, he slurped at the spoon, eyes alight with whatever serotonin that could be found in sugar.

He pulled another spoonful from the carton and extended it to Owen. He licked it off.

“I’m not Jackson.”

Jamie had the spoon in his mouth. His eyebrows shot up. “The resemblance is uncanny.”

Owen flipped him off. “I’m serious. If he’s your type, then…maybe I’m not. I know what I said in the hospital, but I don’t want you to feel forced or anything.”

The spoon popped out of his mouth audibly. Jamie set it and the carton of ice cream down beside the bed. Scooting closer to Owen, he thumbed a smear of chocolate off his lips.

“I don’t have a type,” Jamie admitted as he licked his thumb. Owen tried to focus on his eyes. “I had sex to feel something. It didn’t matter with who. I just needed something stronger than the nothing.”

Owen blinked and dragged his eyes away from Jamie’s wet lips. When did he start liking lips?

“The nothing?”

Jamie sighed, flopping back onto the bed. Owen followed, lying beside him with his head propped up on his arm.