Millburn holds him against the shower wall, curls matted down from the spray of warm water. His hands -the hands of a giant- curl over Fifield's ribs, thumbs pressing along the front, fingers splayed wide and stretching almost to the smaller man's spine. He ducks his head, grins against Fifield's forehead as he drops a kiss there, grins wider as Fifield tips his head back, drags their mouths together.
They kiss and it's messy but the water takes care of that, makes their lips slide and they end up laughing with Fifield's head tucked up against Millburn's neck.
Millburn lowers his hands, digs his thumbs rough into the dips of Fifield's hipbones to hear him growl, grabs him by the hips and lifts him up so they're level with each other, presses him harder to the wall with a grind of his own hips. He bares his teeth, moans as Fifield bites at his shoulder and neck, pants as their hips roll together, braces himself on the slick wall.
He easily lifts Fifield higher, presses the flat of his tongue to the frantic jump of his carotid pulse, drags his fingers over his waist, down his belly. Fifield's hands come up to tangle in his hair, gain some leverage. It stings and Millburn bites the slope where neck meets shoulder, hand slipping on the wall. Fifield laughs, twists his hips, lets his head fall back as the air is pulled from his lungs. Millburn grabs his hips again, holds him there so they don't fall as Fifield rides the waves of his orgasm.
They kiss again, slow and sloppy, and ignore the sound of Janek banging on the wall.