Only if the other men are like you. Or, okay, more specifically, are you.
[Just relax, Shiro. Lance has got you. He takes his sweet time washing every inch of his chest, faintly cursing the tiny layer of cloth between his fingertips and Shiro's skin. The washcloth moves down his chest, to his sides, down to his hip.]
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[Just relax, Shiro. Lance has got you. He takes his sweet time washing every inch of his chest, faintly cursing the tiny layer of cloth between his fingertips and Shiro's skin. The washcloth moves down his chest, to his sides, down to his hip.]