Page 16 of Tension

“Still beautiful,” he said, his voice low. He stepped in closer, gently helping me out of my clothes like I was something delicate.

The shower filled with steam as we stepped inside. He lathered a washcloth and began washing me, slowly and carefully. The smell of the almond butter body wash was soothing.

His hands moved with care, starting at my shoulders and gliding down my arms. I closed my eyes, letting the warmth and pressure soothe me. When he moved to my back, a tear slipped free.

“I hate seeing you cry over that nigga,” his voice was a low rumble over the sound of the spray.

I paused, taking in his words. “It’s not about him. I didn't think I’d had real feelings for Brian in a long time. When you keep taking care of someone who never takes care of you in return, the feelings just… fade. I think I’m mourning my time. I’m scared of what’s next. And maybe a little sad that the version of him I loved never actually existed.”

“You can’t want more for someone’s life than they want for themselves,” he said.

His tone was firm, but his hands were gentle as he moved around me, washing my chest with slow, reverent circles. I felt him hard against me, but there was no rush in him.

“So, as a Black woman, how do I support my man when he’s down?” I asked, genuinely wanting to know what a man as independent as Vel would say.

“It’s okay to support people; that’s what love is. But it’s not okay to accept disrespect, broken promises, or blatant lies.”

“That’s true. It’s just… hard to see it when you’re in it. I loved my dad, but after my mom died, he went through a lot of women. He kept comparing them to her. I think I wanted to be someone’s ‘one.’ Then I met Brian. It was right after Dad passed. He was perfect: attentive, caring, understanding. I can’t even say when it started to shift, but now… I’m done with him. I just need him to let me go.”

“Don’t let one man or your bad choices stop you from doing what you need to do.”

I side-eyed him. “Really?”

He shrugged. “What? You made some bad choices. Own them. Move on. You’re doing right by letting it out.” He started washing himself, water running over his broad shoulders.

His bluntness was actually refreshing. Most people would’ve coddled me, but Vel respected me enough to tell the truth.

I took the cloth from him and started to help, running it over his chest, his toned arms, and down his stomach to that deep V I loved so much.

“You wanna wash your hair?” he asked, eyeing the glue still clinging to my edges.

“Yeah. Just let me finish with you.”

As I knelt to wash his legs, his dick was right there in my face. Semi-hard but so heavy it still lay against his thigh. I kissed the tip, my tongue lightly licking the head.

I wanted to do more, but Vel lifted me back to my feet.

We rinsed together, then he grabbed the rose-scented shampoo and started to wash my hair for me. The moment was tender and unexpectedly intimate. A quiet moan slipped out before I could stop it. I’d never done anything like this before. It was almost too much for me to handle.

He conditioned my hair, massaging my scalp while I leaned back into him, my back pressed to his chest. I reached for the knob, turning the water cold. I always finished showers that way to close my pores.

He backed up fast, already knowing my routine. “Let me get out before you do your cold shit.”

When I stepped back into the room, Vel was stretched out in just his boxers, already glistening from moisturizing. The room was lit with soft light from the lamps. My shea butter cream and oil sat on the nightstand beside him. He didn’t have to say a word. I walked over and let the towel fall.

I learned the first night we spent together that he didn’t like it when I hid my body. I tried to turn the lights off because of my scars, and he told me, “I love all titties. Let me appreciate yours just the way they are.”

He reached for the cream first, gently rubbing it into the faint scars on my breasts from the reduction surgery. Then he smoothed it over the stretch marks on my stomach, thighs, and ass. Touching each part of me like it deserved care, not shame. He grabbed the oil and started working it in, slow and steady.

My stunted emotions began to stir, my skin tingling under his fingers. I could feel myself craving more.

This man had been everything I needed that day, and I was ready for a release. When he finished, he slipped one of my oversized shirts over my head. We crawled into bed, and he wrapped his arms around me, rubbing small circles into my back.

The silence wasn’t awkward; it was warm. Still, I kept wondering when we’d get to the fucking. I tilted my head to look up at him. He caught my gaze and grinned.

“I also don’t think sex is what you need right now,” he said gently.

I pouted. “I know sex won’t fix everything. But I know it’ll help me feel better…”