Matthew had to carry Lukas upstairs. He wasn’t moving, and he couldn’t just stay like that, sitting in the garage on his heels, with his eyes closed, and his hands thrust into his groin.

There was piss all over Lukas, and it was dripping from his feet as Matthew carried him across the garage, Matthew’s arm slippery under the back of Lukas’ thighs where there was come as well. He felt as though he was carrying a little boy to bed. Lukas’ eyes were still closed, and he kept his hands pressed into his groin as Matthew carried him all the way upstairs, along the gallery, and into Lukas’ rooms.

Matthew put him into the shower, though Lukas collapsed into the same position as Matthew turned the shower on, water flowing over his head while he kept his head down, his eyes closed, and his hands thrust into his groin. He was keening softly.

Matthew found a mop and bucket in Lukas’ kitchen, though they looked as though they’d never been used. He filled the bucket with a couple of inches of water and a little detergent, and then went downstairs again and back out to the garage. He mopped the piss up, and used the head of the mop to wipe down the vice, which was covered in Lukas’ come. He put the tools he had used back onto the wall, put the box of wood down at the end of the bench and supposed he ought to pick up Lukas’ bag, which he had left there, on Tuesday, when they had gone to the beach. It had Lukas’ ipod in it, and he wouldn’t find it otherwise.

Matthew slung it over his shoulder, picked up the pieces of blade that he had snapped and carried the mop and bucket back upstairs. He emptied the water into the sink, rinsed the mop and bucket, and put them back into the cupboard. He put the pieces of blade into the bin.

Lukas was still in the shower, and in the same position as Matthew had left him.

Matthew supposed he would have to get in there and wash him. He sat down on the chair and took his runners off, took his socks off, stood up and peeled his T-shirt over his head, pulled his jeans down, though he left his jocks on. They were white, and they were still wet with the come he had blown when he was convincing Lukas it was okay to do his nuts.

Matthew opened the door and stepped into the shower. It was long, and there was a lot of room in the front of the spray, where he could stand without getting wet.

‘Here,’ he said, putting his hand into Lukas’ armpits from behind. ‘See if you can stand and I’ll wash you.’

He picked Lukas up and held him in front of him, but Lukas was like a rag doll. Matthew turned him around and draped Lukas’ hands around his neck.

‘Can you hang on, while I wash you?’

Lukas seemed to be able to manage it, though it seemed like he would fall at any moment.

Matthew picked the soap up from the shelf and started to soap Lukas’ back, soaping the back of his shoulders and the tops of his arms, and reaching down and soaping Lukas’ arse, feeling the soap slide in and out of Lukas’ crack.

Matthew started to get hard, aware of Lukas’ body pressed right up against him. He staggered forward, holding Lukas, until they were under the shower head. He swiped his hands all over Lukas’ back, over his shoulders and his arms, and put his hands down over Lukas’ arse, and into his crack, rinsing the soap off.

He stepped back out of the spray, pulling Lukas with him. He turned him around, so Lukas was facing up against the wall, and said,

‘Can you hold onto it while I soap you?’

He put Lukas’ hands up onto the wall, and let go of them gently. He stayed there, but his legs were trembling. It looked like he was going to fall.

Matthew picked the soap up and wrapped his hands around Lukas from behind, soaping his chest and his stomach, under his arms, the parts of his arms he hadn’t already done, and moving down until he was soaping Lukas’ groin. Matthew rubbed a whole lot of soap across the top of it, and then held the soap in one hand, while he started to soap Lukas’ penis. He wasn’t hard now. Matthew moved his hand down further, and touched Lukas’ sack, but Lukas cried out with the loudest sound he’d made all night.

He slid down the wall and collapsed onto his heels again, his hands pressed into his groin.

‘Fuck,’ Matthew said, too quietly for Lukas to hear him. He left him for a moment, and then picked him up again. He hadn’t even done Lukas’ legs, which had the piss all over them.

He put Lukas back against the wall and started soaping his legs, soaping the back of his thighs, and the front of them, and then the insides of them, but being careful not to touch Lukas’ sack. He supposed he couldn’t really touch it.

He soaped Lukas’ knees and shins and calves, the tops of his feet, stood and put the soap back, and then wrapped his arms around Lukas again, and hauled him into the spray of the shower. He let it run over him for a while, holding his body out and moving it around, and knowing that his erection was pressed right up into the length of Lukas’ crack. He wished he’d taken his jocks off now.

Lukas didn’t even seem to know what was happening.

Matthew propped him against the wall under the shower, and started swishing water over his stomach and chest and around his groin, over his thighs, and shins and calves and feet.

He pulled Lukas away from the wall and out of the flow of the shower. He held him for a moment, to see if he’d stand on his own, but he just sank again, and back into the same position, eyes still closed, pressing down on his groin like pressing was going to help.

Matthew supposed he ought to wash his hair.

He looked at the bottles, worked out which one was shampoo, and which conditioner, and poured a little into his hand. He opened the front of his jocks out, to release his cock, and then supposed he could pull them down to his thighs. Lukas wasn’t looking. He pulled them down with one hand, keeping the shampoo balanced in the other. And then he bent over and started shampooing Lukas’ hair.

He rubbed the foam into Lukas’ hair, feeling Lukas’ head bobble in his hands like it was loose on Lukas’ neck. He lathered it up until he figured he had done it as well as Lukas would have, and then he reached down and picked Lukas’ up again, threading his arms under Lukas’ armpits and locking them around his chest. He lifted him, feeling his cock slide all the way down Lukas’ back until it was stretched out between Lukas’ arse cheeks. He held Lukas there, sliding him up and down as he held his head under the shower.

Oh, man, he thought, as he felt his cock sliding in the slippery shampoo in Lukas’ crack. He could lift Lukas up and just plant him on his cock, impale him, though he didn’t suppose he could really do that to Lukas now. He held Lukas with one arm and rinsed his hair with the other, keeping Lukas’ arse pressed up against his cock, though his body twisted sideways.

When he figured he couldn’t hold Lukas like that anymore, he pulled him back out of the shower and lowered him to the floor again, watching Lukas collapse into his position.

Matthew picked up the conditioner and squirted a little onto his cock. He tugged himself and blew his load onto the top of Lukas’ head. The second jet dripped down the back of Lukas’ hair, and Matthew milked himself, before starting to condition Lukas’ hair with it. It wasn’t quite enough, and so he squeezed a little more conditioner out of the bottle and mixed it in, working it all through Lukas’ hair along with his come.

‘I’ve got to leave the conditioner in for a while,’ Matthew said, leaning down behind Lukas and speaking into his ear.

Lukas didn’t move, and Matthew’s cock was drooping. He stood up and pulled his jocks back up.

He really ought to wash himself too.

He picked Lukas up and turned him around until he was facing into the back corner of the shower, and then he took his jocks off and soaped his body. He washed his hair, and conditioned it, and then he figured he’d just leave his jocks off. Lukas couldn’t see him. He had his eyes closed.

Matthew picked him up again and plopped him under the shower for a minute or so, not even running his hands through Lukas’ hair, and then he turned the shower off, leaving him there, and knowing that his come would be all through Lukas’ hair.

He found a spare towel in the cupboard, dried himself, wrung his jocks out, put his jeans on, though he couldn’t put his jocks on, pulled his T-shirt over his head, put his socks and runners back on, and then he went and got Lukas out of the shower.

He picked him up and put him over his shoulder, holding one hand on his back and one hand across the back of his thighs just under his arse. He took him into his bedroom and sat him down on the bed, and then he went back to the bathroom and got Lukas’ towel from the rail.

When he came into the bedroom, Lukas was still sitting on the bed, and not on the floor, which was an improvement, though his gear was still tucked tightly between his legs, the way Matthew had left him, and his eyes were closed. He had his hands held loosely on the bedspread beside him.

Matthew bent down in front of him and started drying his thighs. He dried his knees and his calves and his shins and his feet, and even put the towel between Lukas’ toes the way Lukas did. He stood up and dried Lukas’ chest and stomach, lifted each arm and dried those, reached around and dried Lukas back, and then dried Lukas’ face, gently, squatting down in front of him.

‘You feel better now?’ he said, after he had pulled the towel away from Lukas’ face.

Lukas nodded, though he didn’t open his eyes.

Matthew dried his hair, drying it until it was a blond, fuzzy mess. And then he found Lukas’ brush on his night table, and began to brush it. He pulled all the knots out of it and brushed it like Lukas did, so it was like a helmet all around his head, and then he stood back and looked at Lukas.

He looked calm now, like he was meditating or something. And even like he was maybe feeling something pleasurable, though Matthew didn’t suppose he could be. All of his gear was locked under him and he must be sitting on it. Matthew hadn’t even tried to lift him and dry it after Lukas had cried out in the shower.

Still, Lukas hadn’t opened his eyes.

Matthew opened his chest of drawers and began to look through it.

‘You want a nightshirt?’ he said.

Lukas shook his head.

‘Pyjama pants?’

Lukas nodded.

‘You want the bunny ones?’ Matthew said, seeing them. They were the ones that Lukas had worn last time, though he hadn’t lost his nuts then.

‘Bunnies,’ Lukas said, without opening his eyes.

Matthew pulled them out, closed the drawer, and shook them out. He got down on his knees in front of Lukas and pulled them over his feet. He pulled them up over his knees and onto his thighs.

‘Here. You’re going to have to get up. Put your hands around my neck.’

Matthew placed his hands there, and then stood up, pulling the pyjama pants up to Lukas’ waist, but having to pull them high so that he could fumble with the cord.

Lukas started to grizzle like a little boy who’s just got hurt, crying like a kid with a series of sudden sobs.

Matthew had pulled them up too high.

‘Sorry,’ he said, letting them down a little, but Lukas kept crying.

Matthew tied the cord and put his arms around him, holding him until he stopped grizzling. He sat him back down on the bed and wiped Lukas’ eyes with his fingers.

‘Are you okay?’ he said.

Lukas nodded.

‘Are you going to open your eyes?’

Lukas shook his head.

Matthew pulled the covers back. He lifted Lukas up and put him under them, and then he pulled them back over him again.

Lukas had his eyes open now.

He was staring at Matthew.

Matthew sat down on the bed.

‘Do you want me to read you a story?’ he said, and felt instantly, even as he was saying it, that it was a stupid thing to say. Lukas wasn’t a little boy, eight or ten years old.

But he was acting like one.

‘Story,’ Lukas said, looking up into Matthew’s eyes like he was a saint.

And his voice had sounded different. He had spoken two words since it had happened, and his voice had sounded different. Matthew had thought that that was some kind of joke. People’s voices wouldn’t change, go all high from having their nuts crushed, but Lukas’ voice did sound different, higher, and more childlike.

Matthew supposed he would have to read him a story.

Lukas wanted The Selfish Giant. Matthew hadn’t ever read it, but he faltered, as he read,

‘“Who hath dared to wound thee?” cried the Giant; “tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay him.”

“Nay!” answered the child; “but these are the wounds of Love.”

“Who art thou?” said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.

And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, “You let Me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with Me to My garden, …”’