Cut and Run 1 - Cut and Run

it was about the situation that left him feeling odd. He sighed heavily and dialed the nearest pizza joint, placing the order and giving his phone number for delivery. Then he headed up the narrow stairs to the bedroom at the front of the little row house and began yanking the sheets off the bed. They smelled like the girl from the bar and expensive cigars and possibly Mike's Hard Lemonade. Ty was a little hazy on the details. Regardless, Zane didn't really need to catch a whiff of any of those things.
    Taking his time with the smoke, Zane stared off into the city that sprawled out down the hill from the roofs of the brownstones. He spent a few long minutes picking apart his own feelings—why he felt simultaneously steadier and shakier than he had in months. Steadier, because he was with Ty. It had to be. But just the implications shook him. He had no idea how he had become so dependent on the other man without even seeing it happening. How did he do something about it? More importantly ... did he want to do something about it?
    Christ. He shook his head. Zane didn't even know what “it” was. But he knew he was afraid it would disappear. He didn't want to watch Ty walk away again. He finished the cigarette, stubbed it out on the concrete, and dropped it into the planter that looked like it had been used for that purpose before. Zane briefly wondered who had been smoking out here if Ty was so against cigarettes, and he drew in a deep breath. He knew Ty's habits. It didn't bear thinking. Shower first. Then he'd see what other emotions reared their heads. Hopefully they'd be ones he understood.
    He found Ty upstairs, searching for the spare set of sheets and muttering to himself as he rummaged through the top shelf of the closet.
    Zane stopped in the doorway. “Towels in here?” he asked, taking in the length of Ty's body and pushing back the desire that revived inside.
    Ty glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. “Bathroom,” he answered. “I was just looking for clean sheets."
    Zane nodded and glanced into the closet briefly. He was surprised to see an old, beat-up motorcycle helmet sitting on the top shelf. He didn't say anything about it or even show that he saw it, but he looked at Ty curiously as he wandered away. The bathroom was easy to find. He stripped down, then frowned at the fresh bandage.
    "Well, damn,” he muttered. He scrunched his nose. Might as well take it off. It would just get wet and sticky and gooey and that was just gross. He pulled the tape as fast as he could, pleasantly surprised when it didn't take off too much skin. He turned on the water, poked at the side of the gouge again, and watched a thin stream of red trickle from the deepest cut of it.
    "You know, I think that's gonna hurt even more if I get it wet,” he muttered to himself. He grabbed a washcloth from the counter and climbed into the shower, holding the cloth over his upper arm.
    "Need help?” Ty's voice asked softly from the doorway.
    Zane turned his chin to look through the clear shower curtain. Ty was a little wavy, but recognizable. “I forgot about the bandage,” Zane said. “I took it off so it wouldn't get ... gloppy."
    "Gloppy,” Ty echoed with a nod, as if that made perfect sense. “Need help?” he repeated.
    "Yes."
    Ty gave that a small smile and moved into the bathroom, pulling his buttoned shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. He then slid out of his suit pants and briefs and left them on the ground as well before he stepped into the shower and gently pressed a hand to the rag over Zane's arm.
    Once Ty held the cloth, Zane turned his back to the water and leaned his head into the spray, wetting down, running one hand through it to soak his hair. He let the hot water pour over his face, groaning quietly as it sluiced down over his shoulders and body. Without warning, Ty stepped into him and pushed him hard against the shower wall, kissing him hungrily as the water cascaded over them both.
    Zane's groan didn't abate as it came out over Ty's lips. He wrapped his good arm around Ty and gave as good as he got; the sizzle popped inside him, just like every time before. He'd craved it. He'd tried the oblivion of alcohol and the high of drugs, but he'd not been able to find anything to match this. Ty's touch was unique and irreplaceable. The idea stunned him, and he wavered a little, catching himself against the wall with one hand.
    Ty murmured to him soothingly and pressed himself hard