Justin shook his head. "Ow, fuck -- stop," he said loudly, wincing. "It hurts," he added, bending down to press his palm against his bleeding leg. The cut wasn't deep, but wide, and spanned most of the length of his calf.
"Jup, just stop," Chris said, and carefully pulled Justin's hand away. "I'm not even doing anything. Stop touching it. Your hands are dirty."
"So are yours," Justin said.
"I'm not the one that keeps touching the fucking gash in your leg," Chris snapped. "Let me see, will you."
Justin bit his lip and sat down on the edge of the bathtub, sticking his bleeding leg inside, so he was straddling the tub. "This is your fault, you know," he said.
"Fuck you," Chris said, and turned on the sink, stuck his hands under the slowly warming water. "I didn't hit you that hard. 'S not like you didn't see me, either." He washed his hands and grabbed the soap from the dish, and a washcloth from under the counter. He leaned over to deposit them on the ledge of the bathtub, between Justin's legs, and paused to pull off his socks. "It's not my fault your balance sucks," he said, and straddled the tub, facing Justin.
"You did too," Justin said, frowning.
"Shut it," Chris said. He patted Justin's knee, "put this up." Justin did, stretching his leg out so his heel was propped up against the end of the tub, and the back of his knee was on Chris' thigh. "And, I mean, it could be worse," Chris said, and turned on the faucet, letting the water run until it was hot.
"How?" Justin asked, watching as Chris wet the washcloth, lathering soap into it, then as the water pooled around Chris' bare foot. "If this stings..."
"It'll be fine," Chris said, and leaned back to press the cloth to Justin's calf. "But really," he went on, glancing up as Justin winced, "sorry. But. I could be making you do this yourself. And you'd probably just make it worse."
"Ow," Justin said, gripping the edge of the tub.
"Yeah, yeah. Shut up. I'm appreciating your pain, Jup," Chris said, and the cloth came away red. He sighed, and pushed Justin's knee, bending it up until Justin's foot was on the edge. "Turn a little," he said, and swiped along the cut with the washcloth.
"Ow," Justin repeated, louder. "Stop."
"I'm almost done," Chris said, and rinsed off the washcloth. "Hold this to it," he said, handing the cloth to Justin. He was staring intently at the blood trickling slowly down his leg, pooling in the hollow of his ankle before it dripped onto the floor of the bathtub.
"It stings," he said, and pressed the washcloth against his leg.
"I know," Chris said, because he couldn't think of anything else. He reached into the cupboard under the sink, pulled out a bag of cotton balls, a roll of gauze, tape, polysporine. "Almost done," he said, and wiped polysporine onto a few cotton balls. He ripped off a strip of gauze, pressed the cotton to Justin's leg, and wrapped the gauze around it.
Justin watched, mutely.
"Hold it there," Chris said. He taped down the end of the gauze, and stuffed everything haphazardly into the cupboard.
"Thanks, man," Justin said, and leaned over to turn off the faucet. He stood, shakily, pressed against Chris to wash the blood from his hands.
"Eh, no problem," Chris said, and snaked his arm around Justin's waist.
"Hey, you --" Justin started, and pushed Chris away. Chris smirked. He reached up abruptly, fingers curling along the base of Justin's skull, and kissed him, pressed him to the wall of the cramped bathroom.
"Oh," Justin mumbled, hands slipping to the small of Chris' back. Chris' tongue darted out momentarily to lick at Justin's lips, and he pulled away.
"Hey, you," Justin repeated, and then Chris' fingers were fumbling with Justin's shorts, tugging them down over his thighs, taking his boxers with them. "oh, oh," he murmured, and Chris' mouth closed over his cock.
Justin shivered, and Chris was too good at that, rough tongue curling around the silky skin of Justin's cock. Justin leaned heavily against the counter, letting a sharp moan escape his lips. It was a mix pleasure and pain, culminating in a dull ache behind his eyes. He gasped a little, balance slipping, and Chris' hands went to his hips, sliding up under his shirt, thumbs hooking into the hollow just above the bone.
Justin was easy, could get off too quickly with Chris' hands on him and Chris' mouth on his cock, even beyond the sharp sting of his leg. He came in a rush, with a gasp, and slouched against Chris, hand resting on his shoulder.
"Ow," he said.
"Vocal little fucker, aren't you," Chris said, and stood up. He licked his lips, and pressed his mouth to Justin's.
"Ow," Justin repeated, and pushed him away again.
Chris rolled his eyes. "Give it up, infant," he said. "You good for walking?"
"Uh huh," Justin said, so Chris nodded and wandered out.