Bayside Queens

11.

11.

Quinn

I woke up to the dull hum of the TV in CJ's bedroom turning on. Groaning slightly, I rubbed my hand over my eyes, I stretched my arms out. As I yawned, I heard the sound of flesh on flesh and felt a small pain trickle into my arm. I accidently hit CJ in the chest, based on the feel of the hard muscle tone beneath my hand.

"Why are you wet?" I asked him, now noticing the considerable amount of moisture on my hand. I felt his chuckle vibrate through his chest and pulse through my arm. I felt myself hum with content, not daring to move.

"I just got out of the shower, knuckle head," he said, his fingers suddenly running through my hair. If my eyes had been open, I would have closed them. He knew just what to do to make me feel good.

"I feel like I haven't showered in days," I groaned, suddenly painfully aware of how gross I felt. Poor CJ, he probably felt even worse, having to sleep in the same bed as me for the past two nights.

"That's because you haven't," he replied with a snarky chuckle. I picked my hand up off his chest and slapped him lightly as he continued laughing.

"How do you expect me to cleanse myself?" I whined, pushing myself up and turning to look at him. The pain in my side shot up to my shoulder, but after the initial shock, it dulled. At least the stitches weren't still oozing. "These stitches can't get wet."

I glanced down at Carter, practically foaming at the mouth. My hand was still on his massive chest, water droplets littering his well-sculpted stomach and plunging V line. I swallowed, imagining what was hidden underneath that low-slung towel.

"I have an idea," Carter said after a few seconds, causing my head to snap back up to his. "Hold on," he said before swinging his legs across the side of the bed, my hand flopping on to empty sheets as he headed for the kitchen, his back muscles rippling as he walked. It almost hurt how sexy he was. I groaned and fell back on my pillow with my head in my hands.

A few minutes later he was back with a fistful of mystery items and beckoning me to stand up. So naturally, I did. I would follow CJ off a cliff if he told me to.

"Alright get naked," he announced. I blinked at him. He sighed. "Oh just do it," he whined. Well, I wasn't going to argue that.

Despite my rapidly beating heart, I began pulling off one of CJ's old t-shirts. It had Rutgers written on the front and it was so soft I never wanted to take it off, but I guess I had to. So I rolled it up and tossed it on the bed, then began to slowly pull down my own pajama pants. Supposedly Viola had brought a bag of my things, but all I found in the bag were these pants and two of Derek's shirts. I threw those in the trash. All that was left on my body were a tight pair of boxer briefs that I never wore, but Viola had packed them and I needed underwear so they would have to do. They were too tight for my liking and showed off my mediocre bulge and the flat ass that I hated. They were far too short and I didn't like the way CJ was staring at me in them. He looked at me up and down and up and down again, probably staring at my protruding ribs and blue skin and pale skinny legs. I hated it. I hated being looked at. I hated it.

"Would you quit that!" I yelled unintentionally, not realizing the volume of my own voice. Carter's eyes snapped up to my own and his cheeks flushed a bright red as his eyes widened at the tone of my voice. "Sorry," I mumbled, the word practically inaudible. He cleared his throat awkwardly, then dropped down to his knees in front of me. I almost gasped, and reached to push his face away from penis, but then I realized he was supposed to be water proofing my stitches.

I took a deep breath as Carter eyed the wound on my side, then grabbed my hips. I felt my breath hitch in my throat as he began to slide the tight waistband of my underwear slowly down my hips. I lost my voice in the closing of my throat and suddenly could only see images of his mouth wrapped around me. But of course, his mouth wasn't wrapped around me and he had stopped pulling down my boxers, only making room for the huge bandage he was about to plaster on me. I sighed as I watched his fingers press into the medical tape, securing the bandage. After that, he ripped a Ziploc plastic bag in half and taped a piece over the covering. It was ingenious actually, and I could finally cleanse myself.