“Yes!” Race pumped a fist in the air when he and Shan entered the bathroom and found a pool of water sitting on the shower floor and dripping from the showerhead.
“Don’t cheer too soon,” Shan chuckled. “That’s not nearly as much as we poured into the opening of the pipe.”
“But still some of it made it this far. Maybe the pipe’s got dirt or something in it that soaked up the rest.”
“Only one way to find out,” Shan said.
“Pour more water in and see what comes out. But we gotta get the showerhead off first.” Race reached for it, managing to wrench it loose with Shan’s help. “Fuck,” he shouted as he jumped back. He was drenched in slimy, dirty water.
“Guess you were right.” Shan shook his head. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” He resisted looking at the shorts and shirt now plastered against the younger man’s body, accenting everything in high relief. “Strip,” he ordered, tossing Race a towel. “I’ll get you a clean pair of pants.”
“Then you get to find out just how cold that stream is below the surface, where the sun doesn’t hit.”
“Oh hell.” Race shivered at the thought. “You know,” he said with a sly grin. “You could use a bath too.”
“Naw, I’ll just shift. That’ll do it.”
“Not fair,” Race grumbled as he pulled off the sodden shirt and worked at untying the strings on the shorts.
Shan turned away swiftly. He didn’t need to see this. Didn’t want to, he told himself, even though his body was saying otherwise. “I’ll be back in a second,” he almost growled, his voice low and rough.
“I’ll be here.” Race bit his lip as he watched Shan hurry away. At least I know he’s a bit interested. He finished undressing and wrapped the towel around his waist.