[ it honestly takes most of that time for shiro to relax under matt's hands, acclimating himself to being handled so gently without tensing up or flinching. he wants to apologize every time it happens.

being taken care of like this is almost indescribably intimate. the instincts making his heart pound don't go away but become less urgent, a background haze of constant, low level arousal. if he were still human he might've spent the time half hard, in this form his penis remains unsheathed and relaxed, twitching every now and then. the scent of the soap matt's using is calming, unlike the sharp tang of disinfectant he's used to, and it feels wonderful to finally, finally get clean, to have all the blood and sweat and grime scrubbed from the places on his body that he can't reach himself. the tangled, knotted strands of his tail are embarrassing but there was no way for him to have brushed them out on his own, not without contorting himself into a pretzel.

by the time matt's finished shiro feels almost boneless, nosing and nudging at matt whenever he's in range. he's not trying to grope, just letting his hands go with the movement of the water and the soap that's covering both of them by now. matt's soaked clothes are more provocative than concealing and shiro doesn't try to pull at them, running his fingers over the top of the wet, clinging fabric to tease both of them. he smiles up at matt's question, reaching up to stroke his wet bangs out of his eyes. ]

I feel like I haven't been clean in years.