Con Brio: Todd and Ian's story

7) Todd ( first half NSFW)

Todd locks the door behind him, turns to the side and leans his face against the cool white tiles. Oh, God. This is torture. Why is he so turned on? Is it because of the moment, in the night, when he sat on Ian's bed? When he touched him softly on the shoulder, just to make him feel better? He hates seeing Ian like that. He's seen him have countless nightmares, no doubt courtesy of everything he had to endure growing up. Ian's never told him what happens in them, though. And here Todd is, pervert, getting turned on by such a thing. Did Ian see, just now, how hard he is? Surely, if he did he'll just think it's morning wood? They've shared a million rooms, growing up. It definitely wouldn't be the first time he's seen him erect. 
Todd takes a deep breath, grabs the little shower gel from the shelf above the sink, turns the shower on and strips. The boxershorts slide past his dick, instantly straining even more because of the light touch of the fabric, and he groans softly. Oh God. Is he going to be able to make it go down? 
As he steps under the shower he knows he can't. Flashes of Ian float through his brain as the hot water flows over him and his hand goes down, down, over his stomach, and around himself. 
Oh, Ian. God, I love you. So much. 
He tries, as he tugs, to replace the images with that cute guy, from yesterday. He could have gone with him, right? But it feels wrong, and he squints his eyes shut. 
No more thinking, no thinking, just feeling. He tugs and allows his left hand to go backwards, between his cheeks, probing gently. 
"Ah..." he whispers against the hot water on his lips. "Oh, God..." 
His orgasm overtakes him whole, and he groans again, trying to keep quiet, pulsing hard, the evidence washing away with the water down the drain. Then he leans to the side and tries to catch his breath. 

"Fuck." he whispers as his heartrate slows. He washes himself quickly, scrubbing his hair with his nails, rinsing out the suds on the double. He needs to get out of here, before Ian knows what he's been up to. He dries himself briskly and pulls on some clean underwear and a shirt. Brushes his teeth, all the while avoiding looking in the mirror. He doesn't need to see his pink cheeks, his shiny eyes. He just hopes Ian won't notice them. Then he nods once, and walks back into the room. 
"You good?" he asks neutrally as he walks to his suitcase, pulls out some clean jeans and pulls them on. Ian has already opened his viola case and is rosining his bow.
"Yeah. I'll have a quick shower as well and then get practising. There's breakfast downstairs, right?"
Todd nods. 
"Think so. We can look in a minute. We may have to drag the boys next door up."
Ian laughs softly. It's a great sound. He doesn't laugh enough. 
"Yeah, good luck with that."

He lounges around on the bed, scrolling through stupid shit on Facebook, making himself as scarce as possible as Ian practises. Ian seems to love scales, he's the most conscientious guy he's ever met when it comes to scales.
Todd has to admit he's better now, a bit more relaxed, after his little stint in the shower. He takes a deep breath and clicks on some brainless article about cats. When Ian is halfway through the Dvorak and it's almost time to go he gets up softly. 
"Breakfast?" he asks. 
"Yep. I'm coming."