Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Jason: You ever wonder if therapists use touch on purpose?
Scottie: You ever wonder why clients flirt to avoid emotional work?
Jason: I flirt because your hand on my thigh makes it impossible not to want you.
Scottie: That definitely sounds like a you problem.
Jason: Sounds like a very wet dream I had last night.
Scottie: Let me guess. I was massaging your quad and accidentally slipped.
Jason: Accidentally? No. You made direct eye contact while you slid your hand higher and told me to breathe through the tension.
Scottie: So, your dream self is just as inappropriate as your authentic self. Good to know.
Jason: Dream-you also told me to count out loud while you stroked my cock. Real professional of you.
Scottie: Clearly, dream-me has boundary issues, but not to worry, I know where to stop.
Jason: Let me tell you, dream-you has great rhythm and knows how to use her tongue.
Scottie: I assume dream-you lost the ability to speak after I throat punched him?
Jason: Whoa, what’s with the aggression?
Scottie: I can’t get into this with a client.
Jason: I’m not just any client.
Scottie: Yeah, I’m also your friend’s little sister. Remember Leif?
Jason: Nope, I have no idea who he is.
Scottie: We should keep this professional.
Jason: Are you sure? Because last night’s dream makes me want a lot more. You straddled me on the table and told me I’d earned a different kind of release. I want it.
Scottie: You’re lucky I’m not documenting this for your patient file.
Jason: You’re lucky I’m not texting you a picture of exactly how hard that file is making me right now.
Scottie: Please don’t.
Jason: You say that, but I know what your real “don’t” sounds like.
Jason: I also know what your don’t sounds like when you’re scared of wanting the same thing I do.
Scottie: I don’t do scared.
Jason: No. You just keep your armor on so tight it squeaks.
Scottie: I say don’t because I know what happens if I let myself want more.
Jason: What happens?
Scottie: I stop thinking. I stop caring that you’re my client. That my license is on the line. That I’m supposed to help fix your knee and get you back in the game—not fuck up your life.
Jason: Maybe I want you to fuck up my life. Maybe I want to be the exception.
Scottie: Exceptions aren’t a thing. We’re working on your recovery plan.
Jason: Then I’m about to have the healthiest fucking knee in the country.
Jason: Then I’m about to have the healthiest fucking knee in the country.
Scottie: You really think I don’t know what I’m doing to you when I touch you?
Jason: So you do use touch on purpose.
Scottie: I know exactly how my hands feel on a man’s thighs. Especially when I slow down and press my thumbs right where the tension peaks. It’s so they can release tension, not for sex, Tate.
Jason: Fuck. That’s not helping my self-control.
Scottie: :rolling-eyes: emoji. You’re already hard, aren’t you?
Jason: I’ve been hard since the eval. I already told you.
Scottie: You talk a lot of game for someone who was shaking during hamstring stretches.
Jason: You sat next to me with your knees brushing mine. You breathed on my neck. That was tactical warfare.
Scottie: Are you trying to sext me, Tate?
Jason: Is it working?
Scottie: You’re playing with fire, and what if you don’t know how to handle it and get burned.
Jason: Stop torturing me, Ella Crawford.
Scottie: You think that was torture? Imagine me kneeling between your legs right now. Barely touching you. Just dragging my mouth over your cock, slow and mean.
Jason: Fuck. Are you trying to kill me?
Scottie: No. I’m trying to make you come so hard you forget your name.
Jason: Say more.
Scottie: I’d suck on the head first. Real soft. Just enough pressure to make your hips twitch. Then I’d take you deeper. Hold you at the back of my throat while you curse and grip my hair like you’re losing it.
Jason: Scottie.
Scottie: You’d be so fucking loud for me. I wouldn’t stop until you begged. Not until you said you were close, and I told you to hold it just a little longer.
Jason: You’re going to give me a goddamn aneurysm.
Scottie: You started this.
Jason: And now I’m going to finish it. With my fist. Thinking about your mouth. Your hands. The way you’d look on top of me, riding me until I couldn’t even breathe.
Scottie: Would you come inside me? Filling me?
Jason: I’ll do anything you want, baby. Anything.
Scottie: You talk a lot, Tate.
Jason: You know what the real problem is . . .besides the fact I might come in my boxers.
Scottie: We have a problem?
Jason: Yeah, I don’t know about you, but I’m sex-starved. It’s been too long. It’s, like, medically concerning levels of dry spell.
Scottie: You saying we need a treatment plan?
Jason: I’m saying maybe we stop dancing around this and do something about it.
Scottie: :eyes: emoji
Jason: Are you interested?
Scottie: Depending on what you’re suggesting.
Jason: We share benefits.
Scottie: Say that again.
Jason: You heard me.
Scottie: Benefits? As in: we’re acquaintances with benefits? Can you even handle me?
Jason: You make it sound like a task.
Scottie: I dare you to try.
Jason: Ooh, a challenge on top of a challenge. I like where this is going.
Scottie: So, how does this work?
Jason: We let our urges take over—orgasms and mutual satisfaction. It’s good for my recovery. And. . . it might save our sanity.
Scottie: Sounds doable, I accept. Just don’t confuse therapy with foreplay, Tate. Even if you come out of it healed, I might not.