5. A Serenading Shower

5

Showers tended to be easier for Quinlan.

There wasn't the same pressure on his body like the water in a tub, so the urge to shift didn't hit him quite as hard.

He locked the door to the second bathroom, before running the water and stepping out of his clothes.

Right before this place, he'd spent a few nights at Blade's mansion. Quinlan didn't know how Blade and Griff were related, but they were both dragon shifters. Both were very rich, their guest beds plush, their guest showers running hot water almost immediately.

The shower space was so large that Quinlan had to take two steps from the shower door to reach the rain-like spray.

The warm water pattered on his skin; he sighed.

Before meeting the dragon shifters, Quinlan had lived in drafty apartments, where the air in the shower was cold even though he'd drawn the shower curtains and shut the bathroom doors.

But in Griff's mansion, the shower was encased completely in floor-to-ceiling glass walls. It was so comfortably warm in there, that Quinlan knew he'd be reluctant to leave.

"Quinlan, oh Quinlan

You own my throbbing heart

I would rip it out for you

But then I would be dead"

The singing had started up again. Quinlan wasn't sure how he could hear the words so clearly through the glass—some kind of spell?—but the lyrics were no better than before.

He decided to sing his own song back, because maybe Griff understood things better that way.

"Your songs are terrible

Maybe you should find some other songs

I'm glad you're staying out there"

A cry rang out, muffled. "Fireheart," Griff yelled excitedly. "You're serenading me?"

"No!" Quinlan buried his face in his hands and groaned. "No, I thought you understood things better through song!"

"Aww! You're making an effort to get to know me! I am so touched."

"Are you being an idiot on purpose?" Quinlan asked.

"No!" Griff sang. "You just make me so happy!"

Griff would probably grossly misunderstand further if Quinlan tried to convey his message through interpretive dance.

Then again, he'd hugged Quinlan, and... maybe Quinlan didn't mind him all that much.

Quinlan was so absorbed in his thoughts that he forgot about the shower for a moment. And his body gave in to the urge to shift, his legs joining together into a tail.

Which could not hold him upright at all.

Quinlan crashed into the wall and fell down hard, crying out as pain shot through him.

"Fireheart," Griff bellowed.

The door exploded into splinters. Quinlan barely had the presence of mind to shift back, but he was still a boneless heap on the floor, aching everywhere.

"Quinlan!" Griff yanked the shower door open. He was naked as though he'd shifted hurriedly into his human shape. "What happened? Where are you hurt?"

"I don't know," Quinlan groaned.

Griff shut off the water and stepped into the shower with him, large hands carefully scooping Quinlan off the wet stone floor.

He carried Quinlan out of the bathroom into one of the guest bedrooms, laying him gently on the bed. Then he cradled Quinlan's head and gingerly turned him left and right, fingertips running carefully through Quinlan's hair.

"Did you hit your head?" Griff growled.

"I... I don't think so," Quinlan mumbled. "But my shoulder and hip really hurt."

Griff continued to growl, squinting at every inch of Quinlan's body. "You're going on bed rest."

"I'm fine! I still have to get back to my apartment—"

"That's in three days. You're not moving until then."

Quinlan scowled. Griff scowled back.

"It's not like I'm even allowed to leave this place," Quinlan said.

"I will carry you up and down the stairs," Griff announced. "Annie too."

"I'll hold Annie. You can carry me while I carry her."

"Fine."

Griff leaned in and nuzzled Quinlan's damp hair, his entire body curving protectively around Quinlan.

"I'm not even pregnant," Quinlan muttered.

Griff's eyes gleamed. "I will be in the shower with you when you're pregnant. No chance of falling."

"‘When'?" Quinlan spluttered. "Not ‘If'?"

Griff licked his lips and didn't answer. Quinlan wasn't ready to acknowledge it.

Instead of saying anything else, Griff ran his hands slowly over Quinlan's shoulders and hips, pressing gently to find where he hurt most. "Here?"

"Yeah," Quinlan grumbled. "It's fine. It's not like I haven't been through worse."

Griff frowned deeply. "What made you fall?"

"I wasn't paying attention."

"Fireheart!" Griff grew more agitated. "You need to take care of yourself, or I will take care of you. All the time. Every minute."

"No! I don't need you trying to serenade me every second."

Griff lit up. "I can sing to you now, too."

"No more singing!"

Griff stared at him in horror. And Quinlan couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for him.

"One song every half hour," Quinlan relented.

Griff beamed and reached for Quinlan as though he was about to give Quinlan a bone-crushing hug, except he pulled back at the last moment, carefully sliding his arms around Quinlan for a gentle embrace.

His arms were strong, his chest solid, and Quinlan had never felt safer.

"Thank you," Griff whispered. "For giving me a chance."

Dammit. Quinlan swallowed. "I'm supposed to hate you. For kidnapping me."

Griff smiled again. "But you don't hate me."

"I don't seem to be able to," Quinlan admitted.

"I knew you'd be perfect." Griff nuzzled him affectionately.

Somehow, Quinlan wasn't even annoyed. Griff's smile was bright and innocent, pleased and animal-like all rolled up into one.

It didn't mean Quinlan was going to stick around, but at least he knew he wasn't going to be miserable here. He awkwardly patted Griff's hair. "So... can I get back to my shower?"

Griff rumbled thoughtfully. "I'm going to watch you."

"Watch me?" Quinlan squawked.

"To make sure you won't fall again." Griff narrowed his eyes. "Since you won't tell me why you fell."

"I... forgot to pay attention."

"What if you forget again? I need to keep my eyes on you every single second."

Quinlan flushed. "You don't have to."

But he wobbled slightly on the way back to the bathroom. Someone had swept up the splinters from the broken door; Quinlan eyed the empty doorway uncertainly.

"I hope you have spare doors somewhere. You can't just keep breaking them."

"Maybe you should leave them open so I don't have to break them to rescue you."

"I didn't need rescuing!"

"You hurt yourself!"

Quinlan shut the shower door. Griff parked himself outside the shower, his face pressed against the clear glass. Quinlan rolled his eyes. "I'm sure watching me like that isn't going to save me from falling, either. Please don't smash the glass."

Griff scowled. "I know that much."

Quinlan had to put all his attention into not shifting. He sat on the shower bench and worked the shampoo into his hair, rinsing it off. Then he lathered his hands and washed his body, torn between rushing, and cleaning himself thoroughly the way he deserved.

He'd barely scrubbed his ears when he glanced up.

Griff was still pressed against the glass wall, raking his gaze all over Quinlan's body.

"Yeah, because I don't need any privacy around here," Quinlan said sarcastically.

"I already saw all of you last night." Griff licked his lips. "You have nothing to be shy about."

Quinlan flushed. Knowing that Griff was watching made him extra aware of where his hands were.

Bathing wasn't supposed to be sexual. Not when he ran his hands down his neck, or scrubbed his shoulders. But suddenly every touch felt like it could mean something. Like it could be pleasurable.

"Why's your belly wrinkled?" Griff asked.

Quinlan winced slightly. "My body didn't go back to what it was, after I had Annie."

Griff rumbled. "It's like a battle scar. You're so strong."

Quinlan flushed and kept on soaping himself. No one had thought that about him before. He'd never liked his post-birth belly, but Griff... made it sound like something pretty.

Griff hissed when Quinlan ran his hands over his chest. Quinlan's nipples grew hard.

"I want to taste your milk," Griff said suddenly.

Quinlan blushed. How would Griff do it? Would he just use his tongue? Would he close his mouth around Quinlan's sensitive nubs and suck? "It's not for you."

"But I could make you feel so good," Griff said quietly, just above the sound of the shower. "Suck your tight nipples until you moan and squirm under me. Suck on one, then the other. Rub them and squeeze them, and when my mouth is busy with them, I'll spread your legs open, and tease your hole with my cock."

Quinlan's breath rushed out of him. When he looked again, he realized Griff's arm was moving, back and forth in a familiar, rhythmic way.

He followed the line of Griff's body to the thick length straining between his legs, Griff's large fist wrapped around it, working it from base to tip.

Quinlan had to clear his throat twice to get his voice out. Dryly, he said, "Sure, jerk off to me taking a shower, why don't you?"

"You can jerk off to me if you want." Griff's smile was all sharp teeth.

Quinlan choked down his laugh. "You're crazy."

But he'd never had anyone watch him this keenly before. Never had anyone pant and lick their lips, pupils dilating just from the simple gesture of Quinlan running his hands down his chest.

It felt as though he had power over Griff.

And it felt... nice.

He soaped himself down to his hips, neglecting the heavy length between his legs. When Quinlan reached behind to scrub his back, he grew more aware of his arched spine than he'd ever been in his life, the way it pushed his chest out, his nipples half-hidden amongst the suds.

"Fuck," Griff murmured. "This is almost better than touching you. Just watching. Waiting."

He licked his lips and pushed his dusky tip against the glass, smearing precum all over it. Quinlan gulped.

"You make me so hard for you," Griff rumbled. "Last night, I came thinking about you. Thinking about pushing my big cock into your tight little ass."

Heat swooped between Quinlan's thighs. He had to pull his leg up to hide his suddenly-straining cock, his pulse thumping all the way through his sensitive length.

His hands were trembling when he washed between his toes. But he could only wash his leg so thoroughly. And he couldn't possibly put it back down, because it would stop hiding the way his cock was jutting up, desperate for touch.

How was he going to reach the toes on his other leg?

Carefully, Quinlan scooted backward on the shower bench, pulling his other leg up, too.

Except Griff moved further along the shower wall, so he had a direct line of sight to Quinlan's front. His groan filled Quinlan's ears. "Yeah, that's it, fireheart. Spread yourself open for me."

Quinlan choked on his saliva. He covered himself with his soapy hands, burning with embarrassment. "I-I'm not doing this because of you."

Griff only smiled, squeezing more precum out of his cock.

The sight made Quinlan hotter.

He tried his best to scrub his legs, ignoring how spread open his body was. Then he lowered his legs and leaned to one side to wash between his cheeks.

Griff groaned. "Fuck. Touch your tight hole."

"I'm washing it, not—not anything else," Quinlan spluttered. But he couldn't help being aware of his puckered muscle, his fingertips skimming over it.

He ran his fingers over it with more pressure, just to make sure he was clean. That was all.

"Push it in a little," Griff whispered. "I want to see it suck my finger inside. Or my tongue."

The thing was that it felt good.

Quinlan glowered. "I'm doing this for me, not for you."

But he sank his fingertip into himself, swirling it around to clean himself inside.

Griff began panting. His breath fogged up the glass, and his face was awash in want.

His precum trickled down the glass wall.

Quinlan pulled out his finger. "No more."

Just that his own cock was aching for touch, for release. He ignored it and washed his cheeks, then his perineum and his sac.

"Yeah, roll your cute lil balls," Griff groaned. "So cute. I want to kiss them."

Quinlan flushed. "They're just balls."

"I want to lick them and suck them. Make you squirm and grab my hair."

"You could do that to anyone else," Quinlan blurted.

"No. Just you." Griff groaned, his fist going white-knuckled around his cock as he worked himself more frantically.

Quinlan scowled, curling his fingers around his own cock. Just to wash it.

But washing himself was a completely different experience when he was hard, with someone watching him. All his nerve endings felt alive. He tried to slow down, but his body only grew more aware of the friction. He worked his fingers around his tip, his breath hitching at the pleasure burning down his nerves.

"Fuck," Griff said again, his voice deepening into a growl.

When Quinlan chanced another look at the man, he found Griff with both his hands wrapped around his cock, one at his tip and one at his base, his hips snapping forward, his flushed tip emerging from the tunnel of his fists.

Quinlan was not going to imagine that cock in his ass. No. He wasn't.

"I make a lot of cum," Griff rasped, looking into Quinlan's eyes. "More when I'm a dragon."

Quinlan's cock ached in his hands.

"I want to pin you down and push your legs open," Griff growled, his chest heaving. "Work my cock into your pretty hole, push it all the way inside so you scream and come around it."

It made Quinlan even hotter between his legs, his hole fluttering, needing to be stretched.

Griff slid his hand down so his fists formed a tight O. Quinlan tried to drag his eyes away. But all he could see was Griff's tip thrusting out of that grip, like his hands were Quinlan's hole and what pushed through was what would be buried in Quinlan's ass.

A whimper fell out of Quinlan's throat. His hand tightened instinctively around himself, and Griff groaned.

"Your sounds," Griff growled. "Make me want to come so bad."

His muscles flexed. His hips moved in a sinuous, illegal way, and Quinlan's instincts roared at him to get on his knees and offer himself.

He didn't. But he couldn't stop his fingers from slipping down and pushing into his hole, trying to find that sweet spot.

"Fuck," Griff hissed. "So jealous of your fingers. Want it to be me. Fucking you open, making you howl. Making you come over and over on my cock. I want to bring you everywhere with my knot locked inside you."

Quinlan came with a cry, his balls writhing, pleasure crashing through his body.

Griff's breathing grew ragged. He made several short, hungry sounds. Then he groaned, and Quinlan opened his eyes in time to see thick white fluid painting the glass wall, on and on and on.

Griff hadn't stopped coming by the time his cum flowed all the way to the floor. Every time Quinlan thought it'd end, another pulse hit the glass, waves of white slowly sliding down like some kind of interactive art. It wasn't even a thin trail, either. It was a thick stripe of cum as wide as Quinlan's wrist, because there was so much of it.

Griff pressed his blunt tip against the glass, drawing a heart through his cum. He grinned proudly at Quinlan. "A heart for my fireheart."

Quinlan hid his face in his hands and groaned. How had his life become this? "I don't accept that as a... whatever it's supposed to be."

Griff looked hopeful. "But you'll accept a song?"

"No," Quinlan started to say.

"Remember the hole in my heart?

There's a hole in my armpit too

A hole in my belly

A hole in my mouth

All the holes are Quinlan-shaped

I need ten of you to fill them all

But I only have one"

Quinlan stared.

The thing was that before this, Griff had only been singing as a dragon, and that had been... weird.

But Griff was now a man, and as he sang, his face filled with hope and joy, and it made places in Quinlan quiver, that he didn't even know existed.

Fuck, he thought.

He was never supposed to find this man even the slightest bit charming.

Unaware of Quinlan's mini-crisis, Griff kept singing.

"Oh but I have an idea

What if I put parts of you into the holes in me

Your finger into my belly

Your nose in my armpit

Your cock in my mouth

Your hair in my throat

I swear I'm not a serial killer"

Quinlan buried his laugh in his hand. "Serial killer? Seriously?"

"I just swore I'm not one," Griff said indignantly.

"No one sings about serial killers!"

"That just means I'm special." Griff puffed out his chest.

"Do you write those songs in advance?" Please don't say yes.

"Yes! I have pages and pages of them!" Griff said proudly. "I wrote another ten songs last night!"

Quinlan didn't know if he wanted to be exasperated, amused, or horrified. "T-ten?"

"Do you not believe me? Do you want to see the binders of songs I've written for my mate?"

"Please don't tell me there's a whole mountain of them."

"Maybe a hill," Griff admitted. "I don't have a mountain-sized vault. But I have my caverns! Most of my songs are in one cavern that I haven't showed you yet."

Quinlan's mind broke a little. Weakly, he asked, "Is... that your hobby?"

Griff looked so delighted, he almost glowed. "Yes! My hobby is writing love songs for my mate. For you."

"H-how long have you spent writing songs?"

"Hundreds of years! They've gotten so good," Griff crowed.

They were still so bad. And Griff didn't even realize it. Quinlan shook his head. Was this why Griff couldn't find a mate? Because he'd chased them all off with his terrible love songs?

Before Quinlan could ask Griff any of those questions, footsteps thumped on the other side of the door.

"Dragon Master," a man cried. "We have an invader!"