BLOOMS #2 - Take Care of Me

The smell of the massage room laid beneath the subtler warmth of herbal infusions, woven into the air like a second skin. The purification vents along the ceiling exhaled in slow, rhythmic intervals, filtering away any stray particle that did not belong.

Lin's hands hovered beneath the wash station, the water temperature adjusting to his biometrics. The warm stream pulsed, a carefully calibrated balance between sanitation and conservation. He flexed his fingers, watching the pearlescent cleansing gel dissolve over his skin, the delicate scent of citrus and antiseptic lifting into the sterile air.

Behind him, Dorin hadn't moved from his seat in the preparation area, arms draped lazily over the backrest. His presence was impossible to ignore especially his musky scent.

Lin didn't look at him. Instead, he tapped the screen embedded into the countertop, reviewing the pre-consultation hygiene checklist.

Patient Status: Awaiting Verification.

Lin exhaled through his nose and turned.

Dorin tilted his head slightly, his storm-gray gaze already on Lin, unreadable but watchful.

"Have you completed the cleansing protocols before arrival?" Lin asked, voice measured.

A slow smirk. "That a real question?"

Lin didn't answer, just raised an eyebrow, waiting.

Dorin let the moment stretch before shifting, rolling a broad shoulder in an almost careless motion. "Yeah, yeah. Rinsed off. Even used the fancy antiseptic soap, just for you."

Lin stepped closer, pressing his palm against the terminal beside Dorin's seat. The sensor activated, scanning the micro-bacterial balance on Dorin's skin. The screen flickered green. Acceptable levels.

Lin inclined his head slightly, acknowledging compliance, then moved toward the main therapy area. Behind him, he heard the deliberate creak of Dorin pushing to his feet, the sound weighted with something heavier than simple movement.

The therapy room was designed for efficiency and comfort, blending medical precision with the organic warmth of the mandatory biomaterials. The seating structures curved into the floor rather than standing separate, crafted from smooth biotextiles that adjusted to body weight and temperature. Overhead, the recessed lighting pulsed at a near-imperceptible rhythm, calibrated to keep both patient and therapist steady, calm, receptive.

Lin stood beside the therapy table, waiting as Dorin stepped inside. He was already shedding the outer layers of his work jacket, moving with that same slow, unhurried confidence that Lin had noted earlier. The scars along his forearms caught the light, faint remnants of encounters with machinery. A rare sight in a world where resources are coveted.

"Stand here," Lin instructed, motioning toward the base of the table. Dorin followed without question.

The ritual exchange was mandatory before any physical contact.

Lin lifted his chin, voice steady.

"Please, take care of me."

A small pause.

Dorin's mouth curled slightly, like he found something about the words amusing, but he didn't break form.

"Please, keep me healthy."

Lin gave a small nod, the response noted and accepted. Every situation and professions called for different formulations but the idea stayed the same. Assuring consent and respect.

After the exchange, Only then did he step forward, hands raised slightly before he touched him.

Lin's fingers pressed into the edge of the scar first, the skin warm and faintly taut beneath his hands. The incision had healed cleanly, but deep tissue rigidity was inevitable after surgery, especially for someone whose body was so accustomed to strain.

Dorin sat on the edge of the table, legs slightly apart, his weight balanced between ease and anticipation.

"This will be uncomfortable at first," Lin said, his voice settling into the familiar cadence of professionalism. "I'll be testing tension and flexibility before applying pressure to the muscle tissue. Let me know if there's pain beyond what's tolerable."

Dorin hummed--a low, noncommittal sound that Lin chose to interpret as compliance.

Lin started slow, applying steady, exploratory pressure, fingers tracing along the path where tension had settled post-surgery. Beneath his touch, Dorin's thigh was solid, unyielding, heat radiating from the muscle before it slowly gave under Lin's practiced movements.

Lin was used to the way bodies reacted--the way resistance turned into surrender with the right amount of guidance. His hands were light where they needed to be, firm where they had to be, coaxing rather than forcing.

Dorin's body tensed under him at first, his muscles twitching involuntarily. Lin felt it immediately--the silent resistance, the body's instinct to guard itself.

He adjusted his technique, pressing deeper, slower, drawing small, controlled circles against the scar tissue, urging relaxation. Dorin exhaled through his nose, the resistance giving way.

Lin continued, methodical, professional. His hands moved higher, working the length of the thigh, mapping out the subtle shifts in muscle tension.

It wasn't until he shifted position--lowering himself onto the small stool placed between Dorin's legs--that his bain noticed how close they had gotten.

His head was level with Dorin's groin now.

It was the most efficient angle for this part of the session. He had done this dozens of times before. It was not unusual, not strange.

But when he glanced up--

Dorin was looking at him.

Not just looking. Watching.

Lin felt the warmth gather at the back of his neck first, then creep up his spine.

And then--

"Bet you get all kinds of looks, spread out between a man's legs like that." Dorin said, voice just a little too husky. His smirk deepened, storm-gray eyes dark with something Lin refused to name.

Lin didn't react. Or rather, he forced himself not to.

He withdrew his hands smoothly, lifting himself back to a standing position. "Your recovery plan includes sessions every two days. Because of the nature of your work, maintaining a short interval between therapy is necessary."

Dorin stretched slightly, like he had already moved on, but his smirk remained.

"Guess I'll be seeing you a lot, then," he murmured.

Lin didn't answer.

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