closed and his face composed so that Derek didn’t know how to interpret that. He knew how he’d like to interpret it, but Sambit couldn’t be flirting with him in earnest. Could he? “My normal body temperature is about a degree above everyone else’s. No one’s ever been able to figure out why, but I always feel like I have a low-grade fever when that’s just the way I am.”
That shot down the flirting idea.
“Okay, just checking,” Derek said in a strangled voice. “Fever is another sign of radiation sickness.”
“Derek, I teach future nuclear engineers,” Sambit said. “We drum the symptoms of radiation sickness—and the need to pay attention to those symptoms—into them from the very beginning, and we don’t let up until they leave us four to six years later. I promise I’m paying attention, but I know my own body, and this is a tension headache, probably coupled with sinus pain from the changing weather and the humidity. I feel feverish because it’s hot and because my skin is always warm to the touch, even when it’s cold outside. I’m not nauseated, and I haven’t had anywhere near a dangerous dose of radiation. Now stop fretting and either finish the massage or let me go to sleep.”
“I ought to leave you to deal with the headache by yourself,” Derek huffed, but he didn’t move away, his hands continuing the massage farther down Sambit’s back. He pressed a little harder along Sambit’s spine, listening to the joints pop at the compression.
Sambit gasped softly and then sighed. “Oh, that feels good. I’ve had a cramp there all day that I couldn’t get rid of.”
“Glad I could help,” Derek said. “Anywhere else in particular, or should I just keep going?”
“Just keep going,” Sambit said. “It feels really good.”
“I dated a masseur at one point,” Derek explained. “He gave me some tips after the first disaster of a backrub I gave him. I’m not a professional, but I can generally make my victim feel pretty relaxed.”
“Your victim?” Sambit asked, amused.
“Well, what else should I call you?” Derek replied. “I’m not a pro, so you aren’t a client or a patient. You aren’t my lover, even if that’s who I usually use my skills on. I couldn’t think of anything else.”
“I see your point,” Sambit said after a moment’s silence. “Victim it is.”
Derek kneaded his way back up Sambit’s spine to his shoulders again, focusing a little more on Sambit’s trapezius muscles and neck. “There,” he said finally. “All better?”
Sambit rolled onto his back, his eyes even darker than usual—not that Derek had noticed or anything—and stared up at Derek. “Much better, thank you.”
Derek focused diligently on Sambit’s face rather than letting his eyes wander lower over the rest of Sambit’s body, so it caught him off guard when Sambit slid his hand around Derek’s and held on tight.
“What?” Derek asked, not sure why Sambit had such a grip on him.
Sambit didn’t reply, his eyes searching Derek’s face as if looking for something, but Derek had no idea what, and the intensity of Sambit’s gaze made him nervous. “Did I break out in zits or something?”
Sambit hushed him softly, his grip remaining firm. The urge to pull away and run grew nearly irresistible for Derek, but Sambit’s hand steadied him, and so he sat there, trapped by the simple touch and powerful gaze.
“I wish we’d met in different circumstances,” Sambit said finally.
“Why’s that?” Derek asked.
“Because if we had, you never would have given me the time of day.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Derek asked.
“It means you make me want impossible things,” Sambit said, sitting up with a sigh. “If we’d met elsewhere, professionally or socially, you would have dismissed me as you did initially, and that would have been the end of it for both of us.”
“What do I make you want?” Derek asked, his heart in his throat.
“It
That shot down the flirting idea.
“Okay, just checking,” Derek said in a strangled voice. “Fever is another sign of radiation sickness.”
“Derek, I teach future nuclear engineers,” Sambit said. “We drum the symptoms of radiation sickness—and the need to pay attention to those symptoms—into them from the very beginning, and we don’t let up until they leave us four to six years later. I promise I’m paying attention, but I know my own body, and this is a tension headache, probably coupled with sinus pain from the changing weather and the humidity. I feel feverish because it’s hot and because my skin is always warm to the touch, even when it’s cold outside. I’m not nauseated, and I haven’t had anywhere near a dangerous dose of radiation. Now stop fretting and either finish the massage or let me go to sleep.”
“I ought to leave you to deal with the headache by yourself,” Derek huffed, but he didn’t move away, his hands continuing the massage farther down Sambit’s back. He pressed a little harder along Sambit’s spine, listening to the joints pop at the compression.
Sambit gasped softly and then sighed. “Oh, that feels good. I’ve had a cramp there all day that I couldn’t get rid of.”
“Glad I could help,” Derek said. “Anywhere else in particular, or should I just keep going?”
“Just keep going,” Sambit said. “It feels really good.”
“I dated a masseur at one point,” Derek explained. “He gave me some tips after the first disaster of a backrub I gave him. I’m not a professional, but I can generally make my victim feel pretty relaxed.”
“Your victim?” Sambit asked, amused.
“Well, what else should I call you?” Derek replied. “I’m not a pro, so you aren’t a client or a patient. You aren’t my lover, even if that’s who I usually use my skills on. I couldn’t think of anything else.”
“I see your point,” Sambit said after a moment’s silence. “Victim it is.”
Derek kneaded his way back up Sambit’s spine to his shoulders again, focusing a little more on Sambit’s trapezius muscles and neck. “There,” he said finally. “All better?”
Sambit rolled onto his back, his eyes even darker than usual—not that Derek had noticed or anything—and stared up at Derek. “Much better, thank you.”
Derek focused diligently on Sambit’s face rather than letting his eyes wander lower over the rest of Sambit’s body, so it caught him off guard when Sambit slid his hand around Derek’s and held on tight.
“What?” Derek asked, not sure why Sambit had such a grip on him.
Sambit didn’t reply, his eyes searching Derek’s face as if looking for something, but Derek had no idea what, and the intensity of Sambit’s gaze made him nervous. “Did I break out in zits or something?”
Sambit hushed him softly, his grip remaining firm. The urge to pull away and run grew nearly irresistible for Derek, but Sambit’s hand steadied him, and so he sat there, trapped by the simple touch and powerful gaze.
“I wish we’d met in different circumstances,” Sambit said finally.
“Why’s that?” Derek asked.
“Because if we had, you never would have given me the time of day.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Derek asked.
“It means you make me want impossible things,” Sambit said, sitting up with a sigh. “If we’d met elsewhere, professionally or socially, you would have dismissed me as you did initially, and that would have been the end of it for both of us.”
“What do I make you want?” Derek asked, his heart in his throat.
“It
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