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."
Dante tried to ignore the weird tension that had settled over the weight room. It was close and suffocating, the kind of atmosphere that demanded to be acknowledged. Both men seemed hellbent on pushing through their session without giving it a second thought though. As much as Dante wanted to be his usual, chipper self, the weekend had drained that brightness from him, so it seemed like all he could focus on right now was the claustrophobic sensation of the room pressing in on him.
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?”
