Title: A Hot Shower
Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi.
A/N: Well, this was inspired by a true story, lol. This morning while I was taking a shower, I dropped the stupid (full) bottle of shampoo on my foot, and now I have a nice big purple bruise. Yeah, I'm such a klutz, lol. I wish Dylan would make me feel better the same way he tries with Marco… ;)
There was nothing, Marco decided, absolutely nothing more relaxing than a nice, hot shower after a long day. He could stand there under the steamy downpour for hours, if the hot water would last that long. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair, pushing it back from his face. It was almost hotter than he could stand it, but that was how he liked it. Never merely warm, but almost blisteringly hot.
However, he didn't want to be standing there when the hot water ran out. He needed to get the cleansing portion of the shower over with first, then he could enjoy the scalding jets of water massaging his back.
Marco reached for the shampoo bottle, wiping water out of his eyes as it dripped down from the hair that had fallen back into his face. He grabbed it, and no sooner had his fingers closed around the full black bottle did it slip right through his grasp. He swore loudly as the heavy bottle landed right on top of his foot.
His eyes were watering, and not just from the shower anymore. He sank to the shower floor, his back against the wall, still cursing in a mixture of English and Italian as he cradled his foot.
"Fucking thing…" he muttered, glaring at the bottle, which had rolled down to the far side of the shower, near the drain. He peeked at his now very sore foot. His now very sore and very purple foot.
Suddenly, he heard the door creak open outside. "Marco?" It was Dylan. "You okay in there? I heard you yelling in Italian," Dylan laughed lightly, and Marco's scowl intensified. A heavily bruised foot was funny to his boyfriend? Jerk.
"I dropped the fucking shampoo bottle on my foot. I've never been better," snapped Marco sarcastically, taking another glimpse at the swollen lump.
"You didn't break it, did you?" Dylan's concern could be heard over the rushing of the shower.
"I don't think so. It just hurts like hell."
There was a light breeze, and Dylan poked his head in through the shower curtain. He winced when he saw the bruise that had already begun to form.
"Ouch," he said simply.
"'Ouch' is an understatement," Marco growled.
"You sure it's not broken?"
"No. How the fuck should I know?" the Italian said angrily.
"Hang on. I think I can help," said Dylan, his head popping back outside. Marco continued to sit there, slumped against the shower wall, his foot throbbing painfully. He heard the door open and close again, then heard Dylan return. A minute later, the shower curtain was pulled aside again, and a wickedly grinning and very naked blonde stared down at him. Marco's mouth dropped open.
"Dylan!"
Dylan's grin widened. "Yeah?"
"What are you doing?" Marco demanded, gritting his teeth together as his foot gave a particularly painful throb.
"Helping," replied Dylan casually, stepping carefully into the shower. He set something on the side of the tub, but Marco was in too much pain to bother trying to see what it was through the water in his eyes. Which, now that he thought about it, was making his eyes burn, too.
"How the hell is you being naked going to help me?"
His blonde curls plastered to his head, the older boy lowered himself to kneel beside his boyfriend, who merely looked up at him in disbelief.
"Well, I have magical healing powers," explained Dylan, his smirk growing ever wider.
"Magical― healing powers?" repeated Marco slowly, arching an eyebrow. Yeah, I'll bet you do. Magical― complete with a nice, big, long―
"I swear I can make you forget all about your foot."
―'wand.'
The Italian rolled his eyes. "Really?"
Dylan moved closer, so that he was flush up against Marco, the contact of their wet skin making the latter shiver, despite the scalding temperature of the shower raining down on them. The blonde leaned down to capture his boyfriend's lips with his own in a quick kiss.
"Really."
Frustrated as he was in his haze of pain, Marco didn't protest when Dylan kissed him again deeply. Hell, if it could make him forget about the stabbing pains in his foot, he was all for it. He let their tongues tangle with each other as Dylan slowly climbed on top of him, forcing him on his back, on the mat covering the shower floor. He sincerely doubted he'd have been able to stand up to do anything, and Dylan seemed to understand this, for which he was grateful.
Marco pulled the blonde further down on top of him. The stifling heat of the shower in addition to that of his boyfriend was almost too much, but he didn't care. He and Dylan were connected by the lips, and the older boy's hands were running all over his bare body. Dylan's leg wormed its way in between Marco's thighs, brushing against his erection. The Italian moaned hungrily into their kiss.
Dylan nipped at Marco's lips playfully, kissing him with the perfect blend of passion and sweetness. Marco's arms were around his boyfriend's neck, occasionally traveling further upward to run his fingers through the dripping blonde mop of hair. Marco groaned again when Dylan began grinding against him from his current position in the "V" of the younger boy's legs. The blonde reached up to the side of the tub for the bottle of lube he'd brought with him before joining his boyfriend in the shower. Marco waited patiently as Dylan coated a finger, then tensed up when he slid the finger inside him. He bit his lip as Dylan continued to stretch him, adding a second finger, then a third.
Finally, he pulled out, and reached for the condom he'd brought. He slipped it on, using his own back as a shield from the water, then positioned himself over Marco. To Dylan's very great shock, however, he never made it any further than this.
Marco let out a great cry of pain. "OW! Get-the-fuck-off-Dylan!"
Dylan blinked, confused and panicky. "I haven't even done anything yet!"
"Get off my foot!"
Oh. Dylan immediately scrambled off, backing away to the other end of the tub. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Marco!"
But Marco wasn't listening. He'd sat up, and was holding his bruised foot, muttering under his breath. Dylan caught a few words of what he was saying, and raised his eyebrows. Marco's vocabulary certainly was― colorful― when he was in pain.
Dylan tried to move forward to comfort him with an embrace, but the moment he touched him, Marco swatted him away.
"Get away from me. You're dangerous," he said, shooting a filthy glare at his apologetic boyfriend. So Dylan was left with no choice but to watch on in helplessness. He wasn't sure if the water running down the Italian's cheeks was from the shower or if it was tears, and felt even worse.
"Is this your idea of helping?" Marco spat at him, and Dylan cringed.
"I'm so sorry," he said sincerely. "It was an accident."
"I think you broke my fucking foot!"
"Let me see…"
"No!" Marco yelped, backing away against the wall. "Don't touch me."
"Marco, I didn't mean to hurt it," said Dylan desperately. "I'm sorry. Just let me look at it."
"Why, you want to make sure it's broken?" the younger boy snapped.
"No, I just want to see it, I won't touch. I promise," swore Dylan.
The Italian considered him. Finally, slowly, he scooted a bit closer to Dylan, who peered down at the bruise. Marco waited while his boyfriend examined his swollen purple foot, even going so far as to let him touch it gingerly.
"I don't think it's broken. Just bruised," Dylan said after a few moments, going on experience from all his years of hockey-related injuries.
"Really?"
"Yeah. I think it should be fine."
"It still hurts," grumbled Marco. Dylan cautiously leaned over to kiss him on the forehead, and the younger boy gave a reluctant smile. Taking care not to hurt Marco, Dylan moved a bit closer to kiss him gently on the lips. When Marco didn't hit him or start yelling again, Dylan deemed it safe to continue. Slowly, he lowered himself and his boyfriend to the floor again, water cascading over their interlocked bodies. Dylan reached for the lube, this time managing not to squish his boyfriend's bruised foot.
Just as the blonde had promised, Marco soon found that it was all to easy to disregard the pain in his foot and concentrate solely on the pleasure coursing through him, courtesy of Dylan. The water had gotten chilled by now, but they hardly noticed. If it was possible, the shower had gotten even hotter.
A/N: If I get enough reviews saying they want it, I have an idea for another chapter. Kind of. So, if you might want to read that, review and tell me, and I'll try it. :)