What your thoughts of s/o offered to massage his shoulders?
To him, a massage is better than sex. His back and shoulders are perma-fucked from his stay in Arkham, leaving him with constant, chronic pain that OTC painkillers—the only painkillers he'll take—are practically useless against.
If he's with a s/o whose touch he's learned to crave, not fear, then he will become putty in their deft hands, melting into their kneading fingers, their rolling knuckles, the heels of their palms; his skin coming alive again as they press insistently against the tangled mess of scar tissue that was once his back, against the ever-present knot of misery between his shoulder blades. They instinctively know the right pressure to use, know the perfect balance between pleasure and pain.
But it's not just the electric magic of their touch that makes him feel amazing. It's the proof that this person he loves so much, this person isn't disgusted by his ruined body, this person wants to touch him despite all the reminders of his weakness, his cowardice, his stupidity, his failures that litter his flesh, this person wants to waste an hour of their day making him feel better.









