i talk about light in the dark

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He sucked in a heady breath, lightheaded as he canted his head back, banishing Dante from even the edges of his vision. He'd gotten through worse PT sessions like this. After all, he was used to other people manipulating his body. It was mechanical, the burn in his back muscles or the resistance his aching legs and hips gave. Even his sessions with Asher had grown monotonous. His first few had been thrilling, Jax breathing shakily to retain some composure. After that, he'd pushed his way through them, vague and disinterested. There was nothing intimate about that sort of touch.

Except, this time, it was impossible to ignore the way Dante's body crowded his. He squirmed a little, a sharp exhalation of breath punched from his lungs as Dante's fingers brushed the inside of his knee.

"That tickles." he blurted out, his traitorous body all too malleable under Dante's hands. He lifted his head slightly, eyes locked with Dante's own.

"No, it just twinged." he promised, downplaying it a little. He shook his head from his place on the mat, mussing up his hair in the process. "I'll be fine to continue."

He flexed his fingers, digging the pads into the spongy material of the mat, trying not to think about Dante on top of him.

"I can take it."

That, and the feeling of Jax’s skin, dappled with coarse hair and the ridge of strong muscles, underneath his fingers. He didn’t know if it was grounding him or making him feel more adrift.

“Sorry,” he apologised, fighting a wince when Jax claimed that his touch tickled.

Perhaps Jax just wanted any excuse for Dante to not be touching him right now, no matter how much he claimed he could push through, despite his shoulder. Perhaps Dante should call their session off, head back to his hotel room and pout in silence. He wasn’t sure what he could possibly do to distract himself from his combined worries about Jax and Bash though.

Instead, he remained where he was, kneeling between Jax’s spread thighs, a position he’d been in plenty of times before with many a client. He’d remained professional then, had never had any reason not to be anything else. He could surely do the same now.

He pressed his fingers against the soft flesh of Jax’s thigh before it gave way to hardened muscle underneath, and then he pushed it back, coaxing Jax’s knee closer to his chest as he helped stretch out his hamstring. It meant Dante had to lean forward, his own chest looming over Jax’s.

The plan had been to do whatever he could not to look at Jax, so he could focus on the exercise instead. The other man’s natural magnetism demanded otherwise, and before Dante could stop himself, he was looking down at Jax, at his sharp eyes, the facial hair cutting a shadow along his jaw, and the look he was giving Dante. Scratch that, it wasn’t a look, it was a Look. Significant enough to be worthy of capitalisation.

Dante felt his hair fall forward across his forehead as his eyebrows twitched.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly. “Am I hurting you?”

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A flood of unchecked, previously untouched feelings came rushing to the centre at those words. It threatened to overwhelm him, threatened to send him sinking to the floor. He wanted to cry, letting himself weep for all those years he’d put his body through impossible high force speeds, lacklustre diets, chiropractors and physical therapists who winced when they saw the shape his mangled and mottled body was in. He wanted to weep for the men he’d let toy with his heart, and his emotions. For the years he’d spent away from his family, clinging to Elias and Annie because they were the closest thing he had to a family here. He wanted, so bloody badly, to be taken care of. He wanted it enough to let Dante do it.

He tried his best to even his breathing, even though his heart was jackhammering in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this nervous. Not standing on the asphalt before a race, or flirting with some strange man in a bar. Who knew Dante Lee would be the thing to bring him to his knees?

“Good.” He murmured, feeling guilty for even thinking it, never mind verbalising it. He’d spent the last year and a half terrorising a man who had only ever been kind to him. He dragged his thumb across the rough stubble of Dante’s cheek, wondering if this was the last time he’d get to do this. He wasn’t sure if this was the beginning or the ending of something, everything felt so desperate, so final. The point of no bloody return. 

“Will you be alright?” He asked, because deep down, he was selfish. That was the thing that would keep him awake at night. And right now, he wasn’t sure if Dante would be alright.

His eyes widened a little, the clearing of Dante’s throat making him spring back a little, hands trembling in mid-air as he fought to gain his composure. It felt like Dante had clicked his fingers and sucked all the air out of the room, the return to normalcy anything but normal.

“We don’t have t-“ he started. A better person would tell Dante to go home, rest. He’d make up some excuse for why his PT session didn’t go forward. He’d lie for Dante if he had to. But he heard the false cheeriness in his voice and swallowed, knowing the other man only wanted to go on as if things were normal.

Like any of this was normal.

“Alright.” He gave up, awkwardly lowering himself to the mat. He flopped back with a carelessness that jolted the pain in his shoulder, a frown touching the corner of his lips. 

It had been over a year of desperately trying to wriggle his way into Jackson Otto’s good graces. He’d both succeeded and failed over the past few days, so to even consider that Jax might mean anything else beyond a mere toleration of Dante’s apology, was too much for his sleep-addled brain to process. Or perhaps he didn’t have the courage to hope that he meant anything more. It would be highly inappropriate, never mind nigh impossible for him to wrap his head around.

He hesitated a beat too long at Jax’s question.

Dante had never had to question whether or not he’d be alright before. He was always alright. The strong, dependable cornerstone in everyone’s life. He’d be remiss to let down on Jax on that front, not after a whole weekend of failing him. Of failing to show up for him.

“I’m always alright,” he said, plastering a tight smile onto his face.

As soon as Jax turned and headed to the mat to stretch, Dante took a moment to let his eyes fall closed, inhaling deeply.

He could pretend all he wanted that the two of them could now endure a normal training session, Dante’s apology accepted and all that. But there was nothing normal about the charged static in the room right now and the tugging sensation in Dante’s chest that was pulling him over towards the mat. He turned, just in time to see Jax wince as he lay on his back.

“Your shoulder?” he asked. He bit his lip softly. “Be careful.”

He knelt down in between Jax’s spread legs, the other man’s knees bracketing Dante’s hips in a way he was sure neither of them had thought twice about before. Dante because he was a professional and Jax because he had probably been busy conjuring up creative ways for Dante to die in his head. Right now, he braced himself on all fours above Jax, hand skating to the back of one knee, the way he’d always done for a hamstring stretch. This time, his fingers shook a little. 

“Did you hurt your shoulder?” he asked quietly, staring down at Jax.

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real eyes realise real lies heart eyes salty fries sunny skies very wise 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

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Dante: It’s not happening.

Dante: They can’t.

Jax: Not really.

Dante: Not really.

Jax: No.

Jax: I started seeing someone a lot better for me.

Dante: It’s not happening.

Dante: They can’t.

Jax: Not really.

Dante: Not really.

Dante: It’s not happening.

Dante: They can’t.

Jax: Not really.

Dante: Not really.