Ow, I said. amazing to have your head resting on me, your hands on me. What could it hurt? Oh, hell, don't answer that. I leaned over him, pressed my mouth to his, and it was as if I could feel his soul down the long tunnel of his body, as if I knew how to reach in and snatch it away.
Jean-Claude filled my head with images. Desperate measures, but not permanent ones. I sat on the corner of the bed, one hand going to the top of the robe, because even with it belted tight it was gaping. A trick to bind the servant to the master, and the master to the servant, so that both served the other willingly, joyfully.
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