['That remains for every man to decide,' he nearly says. But tonight, it's easier to say nothing at all. His bad days are never too far away, and when they're there and lying heavy on top of him, smothering him, there's reason enough to save what little hope he has left for death. But for now, since turning his efforts back to forging, he still surges with motivation, just enough to thrash and keep his head above the water. His hands would've turned against himself long ago, he thinks, if they had no power to create.
It's a fairly smooth part of his leg that Hector has gotten to scrubbing now. Isaac lets him, wordlessly. It's neither keenly pleasurable or unpleasant, though the motions he's making are calming in their sureness, their steadiness. But at the press of fingers into skin he slides free of that grip, easy, sinking back into the bath.]
No. [He says, coolly.
Massage is beyond what he's agreed to. At least, for now.]
no subject
It's a fairly smooth part of his leg that Hector has gotten to scrubbing now. Isaac lets him, wordlessly. It's neither keenly pleasurable or unpleasant, though the motions he's making are calming in their sureness, their steadiness. But at the press of fingers into skin he slides free of that grip, easy, sinking back into the bath.]
No. [He says, coolly.
Massage is beyond what he's agreed to. At least, for now.]