Watermelon Sugar Die

Sponge Bath

I can't let him out to the police station or screaming to all of twitter about what kind of monster I am. But I can't strangle the last breath out of him. Too much evidence. And...it's Louis. What other choice do I have?" Harry asked himself as he tapped the thick, blue vein that ran through the center of Louis's arm. This was the 4th time in two days, and the first time Louis had asked for it.

Louis had propped himself up. "My ribs. Give me the pain meds, and then, I am fucking out of here. Then, you'll be talking to me solicitor." He hadn't nearly the fire and anger he'd shown the last two times, where Harry had nearly had to hold him still to inject him.

His eyes fluttered closed, and he slumped to the side as the heroin flooded his veins. He was half smiling. 

At this close proximity, Harry's nostrils flared in offense. "God, Louis, can you get up to walk to the shower? You stink something awful."

Louis eyes rolled under half-shut lids. "Louis!" Harry shouted in his friend's ear, but he was still unresponsive.

In fact, Louis had been unable to get up. Harry didn't know if he was anchored to the mattress from the pain or from the opioid. He'd brought Louis a sauce pan to act as a chamber pot. He wasn't eating so there, thank god, wasn't anything more solid to tend to.

Harry found a round plastic bowl from the kitchen, and squirt some Philosophy shower gel in it, nicked from Louis's shower. He ran warm water in it until it foamed and made a halo of lemony fragrance. He found a semi-used gray towel on the tile floor, among piled of boxer shorts and  crusty black sock. It looked a bit like Harry's own bathroom. Wherever he was staying, there was usually a grumbling housekeeper behind him.

With all the extra accoutrements of bathing at his side, Harry set trying to rouse Louis from his stupor. "I know it's hard for you to get up so I brought everything to you." Even stinking with the odor of old blood and adrenaline, Louis was an ethereal sight, shirtless and frail on the mattress, tinges of gold light bouncing off the waves of his greasy hair. 

Harry took the blue poof from the bowl and wrung it out. He put it in Louis's hand and moved Louis's hand to the bowl of water. "Man, this is for washing up. You gotta clean yourself up."

Louis tossed the dripping poof at Harry. "Dude, if you don't make an attempt to scrub them stinky balls, I'll give you a bath like you're a damn baby." 

Louis spread his arms open submissively. "Do it then," he slurred.

Again, Harry urged him to take the sponge, but Louis was deep in a heroin labyrinth. "Fuck," Harry proclaimed. "Louis, do you here me? I'm going to have to unbutton your pants. I'm not trying to touch your dick, ok? Trust me, I don't want to be getting near your stinking sack."

Yet, as Harry pushed the metal rivet of Louis's dungarees through the buttonhole, he felt a strange stirring. He pulled the jeans over Louis's narrow hips and his hands grazed the golden down of his friend's thighs. With both hands under Louis, he let his hands cup the two smooth and rounded cheeks as he slid the underpants off his semi-conscious friend.

His blood grew thick. "Sit up, Louis," and he half obeyed. Harry spread the pearly bubbles over his friend as gently as he could. Even through the sponge, he could feel the contours of Louis's body.  And he noticed things. The way the netted sponge caught on a hard, little nipple. The way the bubbles matted the brown hair between Louis's pelvic bones. He noticed. He considered tossing the bath poof, and letting his hands smooth the soap over this angel, but with a turned head, he patted the towels over the shivering form before him. He draped a blue velvet thrown over Louis's shoulders.

Louis was awake, his blue eyes fixed softly on Harry, but he was teetering, a little daisy caught in a storm. Harry tenderly placed a finger beneath Louis's chin. Louis didn't flinch. If he'd tried this under normal circumstances, Louis would have slapped his hand away with a joke. Harry had to test this zombie state Louis seemed to be in. He parted his lips, only barely, and moved in close to this pretty face in front of him. How many times he'd wanted to be this close. Harry could feel Louis's warm and steady breath. He kissed him with the softness of a butterfly landing.

Anything. Harry could do anything to him. Butterfly kiss, cocoon inside him, or take a knife and carve away his wings entirely. 

He had to get out of there. Now. He gave Louis a banana protein bar, a glass of water, two Ambien from his own stash, and a pat on the head.

Harry stepped into Louis's room in a powder blue jacket, crisp, linen gloves, and a watermelon lollipop filling up his mouth. Over the pink sucker, he said, "Be a good boy....Daddy's going out to play."