The confirmation that he had been helping out ‘just a friend’ was good in Jax’s eyes, and Dante didn’t know what to do with that information. It had been a long, tiring weekend and now that he was on the other side of it, Dante barely knew which way was up, never mind how to decode whatever Jax was trying to tell him now.
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.
Jax steeled himself against Dante's concern. He fixed his face into a tight smile, shaking his head stiffly at the overhead lights he was looking at instead of Dante. Pinpoints of light obscured his vision when he blinked - when he squeezed his eyes closed and desperately tried not to let Dante's kind prodding break down the last of his walls. He felt raw and tender to the touch, like he was bruised all over. He considered if he wanted to try and get as far away from Dante Lee as possible.
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."
