No matter what you do it's still the same thing, but it's not the world that I am changing

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

Small hours of Tuesday morning
9th March, Day 282
Jarmyn's room, Whitechapel Inn

Continued from here .


I wish he’d leave me alone for a minute and let me concentrate on stretching this out, but no, before I can say anything he’s kneeling in front of me, long, cool fingers on my calf as he looks up at me through his hair. Of course he’d be good with his hands, but does he have to pick now to exercise his skills? I bite my lip hard as another spasm runs up to my knee, and then the pain eases considerably as he presses in and starts to rub. He does know his business, and at least he’s bent his head now to concentrate on his work and isn’t looking up at me anymore.

What he’s doing doesn’t feel good, precisely, but it helps, and he doesn’t stop until I can flex my leg easily. “Thank you,” I tell him, and mean it. I look down at him, seeing him in a different light, as actually useful for something and not awkward as hell. “What else can you do?” And after the words are out of my mouth, it occurs to me that I probably shouldn’t have asked him that when he’s on his knees in front of me.


[Open to Tarquin]
[CLOSED]

No matter what you do it's still the same thing, but it's not the world that I am changing

[jaeresteade.livejournal.com]

Small hours of Tuesday morning
9th March, Day 282
Jarmyn's room, Whitechapel Inn

Continued from here .


I wish he’d leave me alone for a minute and let me concentrate on stretching this out, but no, before I can say anything he’s kneeling in front of me, long, cool fingers on my calf as he looks up at me through his hair. Of course he’d be good with his hands, but does he have to pick now to exercise his skills? I bite my lip hard as another spasm runs up to my knee, and then the pain eases considerably as he presses in and starts to rub. He does know his business, and at least he’s bent his head now to concentrate on his work and isn’t looking up at me anymore.

What he’s doing doesn’t feel good, precisely, but it helps, and he doesn’t stop until I can flex my leg easily. “Thank you,” I tell him, and mean it. I look down at him, seeing him in a different light, as actually useful for something and not awkward as hell. “What else can you do?” And after the words are out of my mouth, it occurs to me that I probably shouldn’t have asked him that when he’s on his knees in front of me.


[Open to Tarquin]
[CLOSED]