Akash

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WHILE THE CONCEPT OF playing nursemaid to a Royal Marine brought all sorts of erotic thoughts to his mind, Akash found the actuality of it to be far less smutty. They sat on the sofa and watched nonsense on the telly. Their supper warmed their bellies and left them in a dozy state.

He briefly considered taking Jack’s advice to go a more direct route. All the time apart had only solidified his growing desperation to discover what might come after the heated kisses they’d exchanged. Hamish’s injury would limit them to little more than kisses until he could move without wincing.

Stubborn arse who refuses to take anything to feel better.

Honestly.

“If you’re going to curse my stupidity, do it out loud.” Hamish turned knowing eyes toward him. He stretched his legs out to rest on the sofa. “I’m impressed you’ve managed not to take the mickey over my tripping over a mouse.”

“Thought you might feel bad enough as it was.” Akash couldn’t keep his lips from turning up into a broad grin. “Honestly though, a mouse? How the hell did you manage to trip over a little creature in South Sudan? I mean, of all the scary things I imagined happening to you, none of it included you falling over your own feet.”

Hamish grunted in pain when he attempted to twist around in an obvious attempt to find a more comfortable position. “Were you worried about me then? Good to know.”

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Akash changed the subject abruptly and not quite as smoothly as he’d hoped. “In bed?”

“Want to help me get undressed?” Hamish’s voice deepened only slightly, but the change went straight through Akash as though the man had reached out to grab him by the cock. “Akash? You all right? Are you blushing? Why on earth would you be blushing? Something you’d like to tell me?”

“I’ll just clean up the dishes.” Akash stood to make a quick escape, only for strong fingers to wrap around his wrist to stop him midstep. He glanced down at the tanned, calloused, and scarred hand instead of trying to meet the intense blue eyes watching him. “Or, I can wash up after we get you into bed.”

Hamish ran his fingers firmly around Akash’s wrist. They stroked along the palm of his hand, paying careful attention to the various burn scars. “Baking battle wounds?”

“Every baker worth his salt has them.” Akash forced his breath out, all his years of martial arts training coming in handy to keep himself under control. He never imagined a simple touch along his wrist or hand could evoke such a forceful sexual energy. “I’ve no doubts you have your own scars.”

“I do.” Hamish pulled on his wrist until Akash sat beside him again. He guided their hands underneath his shirt until Akash’s fingers touched the marred skin along his side. “Knife wound.”

“From?”

“Classified.” Hamish winked at him with an uncharacteristically mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Why don’t you help me get ready for bed? I’ll show you all the other scars.”

Akash didn’t know if even his twenty-plus years of training could help him maintain his cool façade. “Aren’t you supposed to be skilled enough to avoid injury?”

“The mouse isn’t my first misstep—I doubt it’ll be my last.” Hamish’s almost predatory smile morphed into a more serious one. “No warrior emerges from the shadows without damage in one form or another.”

Akash found his fingers being guided across the scars mapped across Hamish’s muscled chest and stomach. He closed his eyes to allow touch to evoke an image, instead of his vision. “One day you’ll have to share your stories with me.”

“One day?”

He eased his hand firmly out of Hamish’s grasp. “Yes, not today when I can clearly see you wince with every movement. Are you always such a stubborn moron?”

“Frequently.”

“Up you get then.” Akash waited for Hamish to stand before getting up himself. “You’ve had a day of travel. Will you want a shower?”

“A bath,” Hamish corrected. “You could always help me wash my back.”

Do not get turned on.

Do not think about Hamish naked in the bath.

Do not think about washing more than his sodding back.

I bet he’s got scars on more than his chest—and those hairs I could feel. I’m sure those cover his thighs, and now my cock’s harder than a rolling pin.

Shit.

“Akash? You all right?” Hamish waved his uninjured hand in front of his face. “You’ve stopped in the middle of the hall. Something wrong?”

“What? No. Nothing. I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything is brilliant.” Akash rambled like his little sister did when caught disobeying. “What were you saying?”

Hamish smiled tiredly at him. “If I didn’t feel as if I’d been trampled into the ground, I’d be incredibly interested in what caused your trousers to appear so tight.”

“Arse.”

Taking matters into his own hand, Akash bullied Hamish down the hall toward his bedroom. The man had the nerve to chuckle when they went the wrong direction. Honestly. He could’ve helped me out a bit. It’s his flat. They found the right door with the injured man still laughing.

It took a bit of careful work to get Hamish out of his shirt and sling. Akash helped him with his boots and socks before starting to step away to allow the man privacy. Those same fingers grabbed his wrist again to stop him.

“Aren’t you going to help me with my trousers as well?” Hamish stared intently at him, not even a hint of a smile on his face. “I’ve nothing to hide.”

Well, I’m going to have something to bloody hide if I have to come face-to-cock with your naked body.

No amount of meditation prepared him for peeling off Hamish’s jeans and boxers. Akash sternly focused all of his energy on not staring at the perfection bouncing inches from his nose. It had been a while since he’d spent time inspecting another man’s cock.

Living at home for so long, Akash hadn’t dated much. He’d had a few boyfriends. None he’d ever considered bringing to meet his parents.

“Making a study of me?” Hamish reached a hand down to run his fingers through Akash’s hair. He dropped his arm a moment later with a groan. “Fuck.”

With one last lingering gaze at the masculine beauty in front of him, Akash stood back up. He went and filled the bath with hot water, then bustled Hamish into it. The bulk of man sunk into the large tub with a heavy sigh.

“A sponge bath seems more Freddie’s line of work than mine.” Akash held a bar of soap uncertainly in his hand. Where does one start to wash the body of a man they’ve only kissed? No, Akash, not his dick. “Can you lean forward a bit?”

Hamish blinked at a few times before reaching for the soap. “Maybe I should do it.”

“Oh? How?” Akash lifted the soap out of reach. “Stubbornness to the point of hurting yourself further is idiotic.”

After a slightly clumsy beginning where the soap bar insisted on shooting out of his hand multiple times, Akash gently washed every glorious inch of Hamish’s body. He winced at the hiss of pain when his fingers strayed over the bruised and swollen injured shoulder. As he moved on to his chest, Hamish rested against the side of the tub and closed his eyes.

Exploring at his own pace, Akash traced every scar on the sun-bronzed skin. The tattoos didn’t necessarily shock him. He’d yet to meet a marine without at least one to commemorate their military service.

The Royal Marine badge on his chest was standard tattoo fare. The massive ink covering Hamish’s entire back had surprised him. Between his shoulders sat a black-and-white Victoria Cross; underneath it at least twenty names had been etched in his flesh.

“That’s a lot of names.” Akash found himself desperate for conversation, to avoid thinking too deeply over where his fingers currently rested. Bloody hell, his thighs are massive and strong. “Soldiers you knew?”

“Marines.” Hamish watched him through half-open eyes. “Men I knew who lost their lives in Afghanistan.”

“Did you receive a Victoria Cross?” Akash wondered if the medal meant more than a symbol representing lost souls. “Or is it only for them?”

“Both.” Hamish shifted in the water, sloshing some of it over the side. “They said I was brave in the face of the enemy.”

“And?”

“I came home.” Hamish jerked his head toward the names tattooed on his back. “They trusted me and my decisions. They came home in caskets.”

Akash froze with his hand by a scarred knee, and his fingers clutched the bar of soap tightly. Pain filtered through each word Hamish spoke. “They live through you—through the names on your back.”

“Yes.”

No words could make the palpable pain disappear. Akash didn’t even bother making an attempt. He turned his attention instead to offering comfort in the form of a wash in the warm, sudsy water.

Akash rested his hand flat on Hamish’s lower back when he leaned forward slightly; his fingers splayed across the list of fallen marines. “You’ve done them proud. I’ve no doubts in my mind.”

“I hope so.”