Dillon's arms ached in a way that he couldn't remember them having done before. His shoulders cried out each time he moved, his back throbbing in time with the beating of his heart.
None of that mattered, though. Tonight, he had done something he hadn't believed possible just a week ago. Without any help from Nurse Sterning or Seth, he had used the bar to get himself out of bed, into the wheelchair, to the bathroom, back out and into bed again.
Who would ever have thought that a simple piss would be the greatest independent act of his life? Surely not him. It didn't matter. Dillon felt on top of the world.
Collapsing back onto the pillows, he barely had the energy to draw the covers up and over him before falling asleep. For the first time in a long time, his sleep wasn't bothered with dreams of hopelessness.
Unseen, Seth quietly closed the door to Dillon's bedroom. Pride shone from his eyes. Putting his hand to the door for just a moment, he envisioned the man lying within before going back to his own bed.
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The sun shone in through the drapes, dappling the floor as the trees moved languidly outside the window. Birds, newly arrived from the south, sang joyously to each other, exchanging news of their travels.
Inside, Dillon lay upon the massage table, oblivious to the world around him. All his energy, all his might, was focused upon his knee. Gasping in pain, he slowly bent his knee, letting Seth handle the weight of his leg.
Sweat beaded his body. His fingers clenched, knuckles straining white, against the edge of the table. Letting out a moan, he slowly lowered his leg back to the surface of the table.
Sucking in a breath, he began the exercise again. Raise the leg; slowly bend the knee; straighten the knee; lower the leg to the table. Once upon a time, this would have been a simple sequence. He had done many more complicated moves with his legs in the past. Now it seemed the hardest thing in the world.
Seth smiled and removed his hands from Dillon's leg. "Your range of motion is greatly improved Dillon. You almost have your knee to a 90-degree angle."
Dillon thought for a moment before speaking. "Will my knee ever be as strong as it once was?" He had wanted to ask for a long time, but had been too apprehensive when it came to the answer.
Sighing, Seth moved to a nearby table. "I'm not going to lie to you Dillon," he said, picking up a bottle of massage oil and dropping it into the warmer. "You were in great shape and extremely active before the accident, so with hard work, you can be that way again. But you're going to have a bum knee. It's going to ache after workouts or on days you walk a lot. You'll probably develop arthritis in that knee later on in life. Who cares, though? Most people end up with arthritis in their joints. If you want to keep up your study of the martial arts, you'll be able to do it. If you want to do yoga again, I say go for it. You just might end up using more ice packs than you used to."
"Martial arts?" Dillon asked, as he rolled over onto his stomach. "I wouldn't think that would be possible. Not since I can't, well, you know . . ."
"Oh, you already know all the forms," Seth replied. "You can probably see them in your mind now. It doesn't matter that you can't see them in the mirror as long as you have someone to watch for you. Also, martial arts focuses in on sensing the world around you. It helps develop concentration and focus. I think that's more important for you now than ever before."
Opening the warmer, Seth used a towel to pluck the bottle of massage lotion from its steamy confines. He carried it over to the massage table and set it on the special tray designed for that task.
"Any particular areas I should concentrate on today?"
"Not really," Dillon replied. "Although, I almost wish there were just so I'd get one of your extra-long massages."
Seth laughed and squirted some massage lotion into his hands. "No cheating. If you want a more in-depth massage, all you have to do is ask."
"I'm asking!" Dillon exclaimed before lowering his head down onto his folded arms.
They both fell silent as Seth began Dillon's massage. This had become a daily ritual, one they both enjoyed. It was a quiet time, not filled with pressures or expectations for either of them. They could each relax with private thoughts.
Dillon usually just drifted, letting his mind wander. It was one of the few times he wasn't concentrating on getting better or trying to figure out what he was going to do with his life. Sometimes, he just enjoyed the chance to lie still and do nothing.
Today, though, he was unable to drift like he normally did. Instead, his mind was focused on the knead and press and stroke of Seth's hands over his body. He moaned slightly as Seth worked out a muscle knot where Dillon hadn't known one existed.
Seth's hands moved from his shoulders down his back. His thumbs supplied firm pressure on both sides of Dillon's spine while his large palms transferred warmth to the broad plane of his back. The heels of his hands provided firm pressure as he stroked over Dillon's smooth skin.
Dillon moaned again, this time from the feel of Seth's strong hands on his body. He didn't know if Seth was a handsome man or not, but Seth's obviously well muscled body was beginning to become central to Dillon's limited fantasy life.
Seth's hands moved down to the small of Dillon's back. His fingers brushed over the rise of Dillon's buttocks as he continued to massage away any stress that Dillon might be feeling.
Next came Dillon's favorite part. Seth inserted his fingers into the legs of Dillon's shorts so that he could rub the muscles at the top of Dillon's back thighs before moving down. Today, Dillon's penis was rigid as it lay along his inner leg. He found himself hoping that Seth's fingers would move inward and stroke the head of his penis.
It wasn't meant to be, however. Instead, Seth's hands moved farther down his legs. Dillon let out a tiny sigh as his hopes for some sign that Seth was interested faded away.
