As Dick walked through the front door of his home in Glendale, he cringed at his aching body. "Honey, I'm home," he sang sarcastically. William poked his head out of the kitchen, a wooden spoon held upright in his hand. "You look like hell." "Screw you." Dick tossed the climbing rope on the floor near the door and limped towards William. He smelled garlic and olive oil sautéing. He poked his head over William's shoulder for a peek at dinner. William pecked his lips quickly and poured pureed tomatoes into the sizzling pot. "What did you hurt this time?" "Pulled my groin. Nothing a good tongue massage won't cure." Once he covered the sauce pan with a lid, he gave Dick a closer inspection. "Christ. You're covered in scratches and bruises." Dick limped out of the kitchen. "I'm fine." "Must you push yourself like this?" "Yes, my prince. I must." Dick cringed as he sat on his bed, trying to remove his climbing shoes. William appeared in the doorway. "I know you don't want me to help." "I'm fine." Dick winced as he reached for his shoelaces. "I'm beginning to think you have a death wish." William knelt down and took Dick's shoes and socks off for him. Dick didn't answer. "Look at your knee." William inspected the raw scratched skin. "It's nothing." Dick slowly yanked the clingy shirt off his head. "I stink." "You do. But you always smell that way when you've been out doing some daredevil stunt. I think it's the smell of stress." William gave Dick a hand removing his shirt as well, when Dick got stuck half way. Everything ached. Dick knew he beat himself up for his extreme sports. It was a compulsion. He had to do what he did. They met gazes. Dick melted at the light blue color of William's eyes. He called him 'Prince' because with a name like William Winsor, it was only natural. Though William was thirty, he looked like a college student, not a college administrator. Dick loved that 'preppy' athlete air William exuded. Loved it the minute he met him two years ago at a fund raiser for William's college. "Get up. Let me help you with your pants." "Now you're talking." Dick was hauled to his feet, trying not to wince at all the painful points on his body. At times he felt like a Hollywood stuntman, having broken many bones and being stitched up constantly. He was surprised he wasn't partially bionic. Well, he did have a metal pin or two. William dragged both his tight nylon climbing pants and briefs down his legs. When his cock was exposed Dick knew good things would happen. "Is that sauce going to burn if you get distracted?" "No. It's on low and it needs to simmer." William helped Dick step out of the pants. "Do I stink…everywhere?" Dick held William's shoulder for balance. "It's that shirt. The fabric of those things traps the sweat." William gave Dick's balls a sniff. "You smell good here." Dick tried to adjust his weight on his legs, but he was aching from a whole day of rock climbing. As if William noticed it, he said, "Why don't you lay back before you fall over." "If I lay back, I won't get up. Let me shower first." William gave Dick's crotch a nuzzle with his mouth and stood beside him. As he struggled to walk without showing his pain, Dick could feel the look of disapproval coming from William. "Stop shaking your head at me." "You will kill yourself one day." Dick made it to the bathroom, propping his foot on the closed toilet lid to look at his knee. "It's nothing." He brushed dirt from the open skin as William turned on the water in the shower. "I'll let you wash up. Dinner will be done soon." "Thank you, dear," Dick said with slight sarcasm to his reply. When William closed the bathroom door behind him, Dick opened the medicine chest and dropped two Vicodin tablets into his palm. He swallowed them with tap water and gingerly made his way into the shower.
