The story of a lonesome ol'Jerome
Let me clean your wounds
“Yeah! Actually, do you guys have a bathroom? I need to take a piss,” I said. The idea of going on BVB’s tour bus made me really nervous, I didn’t belong there, but I did need to piss, and it was almost an hour’s drive home. I assumed the venue was closed.
“Definitely.” Andy took the lead, and we walked back towards the bus. Inside, it was fucking huge and very beige, which was a little weird, but, um, whatever. It’s not like I’d ever been inside a tour bus before.
“Hold on, just make yourself comfortable,” Andy said, and he went over to a little sink and took his gloves off. He came back with a moist, warm washcloth. He sat facing me on the black couch, and took my small, chubby hands in his much larger ones. He didn’t say anything, he just started gently dabbing and cleaning out the grime. I felt like I should say that I didn’t need help, that I could do it myself, but I didn’t want to, I couldn’t make myself do it.
He worked so carefully. I had a very high pain tolerance, but Andy didn’t know that, and he kept watching me to make sure it didn’t sting too much. It was so sweet. When all the cuts were cleaned out, he looked up, satisfied. “There, much better.” He looked like he was about to say something, but I just couldn’t wait any longer-
So, obviously, I wrote a bunch of this in advance... Please be warned, there will be graphic smut, though I will label those chapters.