The Muse's Undoing

“It’s fine.”

“Why are you making that face?” I ask.

“What face?”

“You look like you’re hurting.”

“I keep turning into your patient,” he mutters.

“I don’t think of you like that,” I assure him.

His jaw clenches, and he looks toward the windows. I pluck the small shard of green bottle glass out of the ball of his left foot, dab it with hydrogen peroxide, put a gauze square on it, and then cover that with a large bandaid. Though I’m done with first aid, I’m not quite done touching him. Giving the undamaged part of his foot a squeeze, my hands encircle his ankle, caressing him and studying his face as he turns to gaze down at me. “How do you think of me?” he asks.

I don’t know any more. It’s a lot of love of the deep friendship type mixed with lust of the richest potency. “Not as some helpless thing.”

“You sure about that?” he asks as he takes his foot away from me and sets it on the floor. I sit back, leaning on my hands, and stare up at him.

“What were you thinking about in the shower?” I ask.

“The way I just kind of…laid there…”

I narrow my gaze, my cock firming up again just thinking about it.

“Are all your lovers so passive?” he asks.

“What does it matter what anyone else is like? I wanted you.”

“In the shower, I thought about how it might have been a disappointment.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “Is there a way to convince you it wasn’t?”

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll see.”

“How will we see?” This is what I really want to know. What’s next?

“Depends. When am I gonna see you again?” he asks.

“I’m not busy today. Are you?”

He shakes his head, then hedges. “Well…I have work to do…”

“Do you need to go home?” I ask.

“At some point. You know I don’t like being too far from my laptop for too long.”

“But you’re off tomorrow, too…unless I’ve got your schedule wrong.”

“What are you saying?” he asks, effectively tossing the ball back into my court.

“Why are we dancing around this?” I ask, dropping the pretense. “Do I want to keep fucking you? Yes. Now it’s your turn to say if you want to keep fucking me. And be honest.”

His face softens, and I sense it all around us, his guard dropping. “It was so good, Matthew.”

“Yeah?”

“But I can only speak for myself. And I know I got overwhelmed.”

I smile softly up at him. “That was my favorite part. You liked it?”