The Shower

The last article of clothing fell to the floor with a soft plop, the metal of the button clicking on the white tile. A weary hand slowly ran down a tired face. Irises as blue as the sky were hidden under drooping eye-lids, framed by long, dark lashes that created shadows on the pale face.

A squeak of protest accompanied the sliding of the clear, glass shower door. The overhead fan whirred steadily, ready to its job. Two small, hollow thumps, followed by another squeak of the door closing, could barely be heard over the fan, as the fatigued man got into the shower.

The faucet made a small gurgle before the water came pouring out. A foot went forward under the stream, testing its temperature. A short clink sounded, then the hiss of the water as it poured forth from the shower head echoed around him.

Slowly, he rolled his head in a circle, the warm water hitting him squarely in the chest. He stepped forward and let the spray hit him directly in the face. The liquid cascaded down the front of him, sliding along his alabaster skin before running off his feet into the beige tub. It then swirled above a silver, multi-holed drain, as if fighting its fate, until it gave up and allowed itself to be pulled to its destiny.

Shoulders that had been tensed up with tiredness slumped and the blond head dropped forward. The rapid sting of the spray pulsated against his scalp, soaking his hair, turning it from platinum to honey. The water ran around his ears and along his jaw to his chin before running in a steady stream to the tub floor.

A hand came up, and a thumb and forefinger rubbed two sleepy eyes. That same hand reached out blindly in front of him until it closed around a bottle. The scent of strawberries wafted up after the lid clicked open and he groaned softly at the images that flitted through his brain. The liquid was cool against his water-warmed palm as a small amount was poured into it. The lid was clicked shut and his head raised to put the shampoo back in the white caddy.

Strong fingers massaged the sweet smelling substance into his hair with tiny, circular motions. Starting at his temples, he worked his way back through his wet locks, his thumbs rubbing along the back of his skull. Each motion of his fingers would cause the muscles of his biceps to rise and fall, his arms at right angles as he worked the shampoo in.

Using the soap on his hands, he washed the grime of the night off of his face, his neck, his chest and abdomen, the water rinsing it away as quickly as it was rubbed onto his skin. One arm, then the next, whitened with the shampoo bubbles, followed the areas he could reach on his back.

His hands went up into his hair again, gathering more soap, then they descended down each, strong leg and back up again. On the second upsweep, he ran his hand up his inner thigh to his genitals. He cupped his heavy sac, pulling it upward, the soft skin sliding over his testicles as they moved.

His hand moved over his flaccid shaft, rousing it slightly as his thumb brushed over the tip. The spray from the shower rinsed the shampoo away before it could sting his sensitive slit. His penis dropped back down as he released it, its pale, soft length in sharp contrast to the dark hair surrounding it.

Turning around, he tilted his head back under the spray and his palms ran back repeatedly over his hair, rinsing the shampoo away. The white-stained water pooled between his shoulder blades and ran along his spine, disappearing into the dark crevice of his buttocks. His muscles tightened, causing his ass-cheeks to lift and pull in on the sides, as he arched back further.

His mouth opened slightly and a airless sigh escaped from him. Dropping his head forward, he let the hard spray hit his neck, massaging the muscles hidden beneath the pale skin. He rolled his shoulders, the joints rubbing together with the action, telling him his body needed rest.

Beads of water fell over his shoulders to run slowly down his chest, over flat, dusky nipples, rising and falling with each ridge of muscle when they reached his abdomen before sliding down into the nest of dark pubic hair. Several drops were daring enough to cling to the surface of the curls, fighting the pull of gravity.

A single bead rolled along the top of his flaccid length, pausing when it reached the mushroom head of his penis. It hovered there, as if deciding whether to glide along the ridge the head created or to continue forward. It chose to continue forward and hung suspended from the tip of his shaft for several seconds, like a lonely teardrop waiting to be wept, before it fell to the tub floor to join the rest of the water in swirling down the drain.

Eyes barely open, he turned back around and shut off the water. The stopper made a loud clink as it fell and the water which remained in the pipes flowed quickly out of the faucet. A blue towel was pulled from over the shower door and rubbed against his chiseled, wet face. It was then wrapped around his lean waist and he stepped out of the tub, the glass shower door squeaking as he opened it.

The fan and the light went off with an audible snap of the switches, then his wet, bare feet padded quietly along a carpeted hall. The dark bed beckoned to him and he crawled partway across it before collapsing onto the firm mattress. He turned his head to one side, his hand near his face, and the still damp vampire fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

A lone drop of water danced along the bottom of his foot until it fell silently to the floor.

End