Page 95 of In This Iron Ground
Damien frowned. “Is that a joke?”
“No. I mean, it waskind ofabout nonconsensual tickling…well, I guess the actual tickling was consensual? It was about this dude that sort of tricked and manipulated young guys to film videos of them ‘sport tickling’ each other. Like, one, or a group, of guys would tickle another guy until he couldn’t take it anymore.”
“What the fuck?”
“I know. The documentary was really good, though. The guy was such a creep.”
“Write the name down for me and I’ll look it up later.”
“Sure,” Hakan said. He ran his hand through Damien’s hair. “What do you want to do today?”
“Hmm…I’m actually caught up on my projects and reading…I don’t want to go out, though.”
“Me neither. You want to hang around here? We can finish the book, watch movies…” Hakan suggested.
“That sounds freaking perfect. I feel like I’ve been studying for seven years,” Damien groaned. Hakan snorted. “I also have a book Nova leant me that I’ve been wanting to sink my teeth into, so. A Relax Day sounds perfect.”
They cooked a haphazard breakfast with what they found in the fridge. Oil splattered against Damien’s wrist, burning the thin skin into splitting into a reedy, red line. Hakan held it under cold water before inspecting it with a frown.
“I hate how you don’t heal,” he muttered.
“I do heal, dummy. Just slowly.”
After eating, they washed up and returned to the bed that still smelt like them. They made the bed together before lying on top, reading the graphic novel they had started the other day until its conclusion.
“Crap, and the next one isn’t out yet?” Damien whined.
“Nope.”
“Torture. You’re torturing me.”
Hakan snorted, snuffling into Damien’s neck and licking him there. Damien laughed, pushing him half-heartedly.
“God, you smell so good,” Hakan said against his skin.
Damien smiled, running his hands through Hakan’s hair. “What do I smell like?”
“Us.”
They made out until their lips were red and sore, getting each other off with lazy, slow hands until they made a mess of each other.
They spent the afternoon in the living room, Hakan rereading one of his favourite books whilst Damien became engrossed in the book Nova had sent him. He became so distracted he didn’t even notice when Hakan moved to the kitchen to make lunch, blinking into awareness as a plated sandwich was placed on the coffee table in front of him.
“Thanks,” he said to Hakan, smiling gratefully.
The day melted away. It found them in the late hours, Damien sprawled over Hakan on the couch as they watched a movie. Damien was at the edge of dozing, a hand petting his hair, when Hakan spoke.
“I was thinking…have you ever considered going to therapy?” His voice attempted casualness, but it came out wary.
Damien tensed awake. “Therapy.”
“Yeah. You know, just to…talk.”
“I have people I can talk to. I can talk to you, can’t I?”
“Yeah. Of course. But, I don’t think it’s the same. It’s about…sorting things out. So that they…so that they don’t hurt so bad.”
“I’m not hurting. What’s hurting? I’m fine.” Damien wanted to sit up, get away from Hakan, but that would betray his words. He tucked his arms against his chest, curling up slightly where he was laying on Hakan.
