Page 15 of Broken Heat
6
Mykel –Omega Revelation
If I had any doubts I would be able to perform my duties with this patient, they had vanished.
Senta had done well to pair me with Elon for my return from sick leave.
During our beach and tide pool walk, washes of desire swept through me for Elon. His eloquence with words. His graceful step. How he held himself with a strength many who had lost a mate could never recover. All those things impressed me.
But the desire—that was something else and not exactly professional.
In my work, I performed controlled sexual intimacy with patients. Of course, that required arousal. But my own personal definitions of arousal and desire differed.
For me, arousal did not always accompany desire, but desire always accompanied sexual arousal.
Desire was more personal. More about things going on inside me I might need to take a deeper look at.
Elon’s energy was high, and after returning from our walk, we played some badminton and later jumped in one of the pools to cool off. We did swimming races and fancy dives, each trying to outdo the other, but laughing the whole time.
I felt myself relax and for long moments I forgot I was a therapist and he the patient.
It seemed during my time off I’d gone from losing my arousal with patients to wanting to take off my therapist’s cap and make love to them. Or rather, him. This one patient.
Lunch was more laughs and fun conversation that had very little to do with heats and broken bonds and healing. Together, we had a great time.
It surprised me when we went back to the cabin to relax with iced teas that Elon began to shut down. He sat on the couch while I took up residence in a comfy, plush lounger. He kept staring at the pillows.
“Are you tired? Are you wanting a nap?” I asked.
“No. The morning was good. Lunch was good. I’m fine.” He stared at the pillows on the couch, then slowly, as I watched, began to pull one closer to him. He inched it onto his lap, then reached for another.
I asked him some more simple questions about how he was feeling about the island and the therapy so far, and he answered with positive but vague pleasantries. All the while, he slowly piled couch pillows around him. There were six, all about the size of laptop computers, and with them he’d made a little nest.
I didn’t think he realized he’d done it.
“Elon.” I spoke softly, watching to see if he might meet my gaze. “Are you cold?”
He shook his head. “No.” Finally, he looked up. His attention appeared distracted. “Why do you ask?”
I nodded at the pillows. “You’ve piled those up.”
“Oh. Yeah.” His smile made dimples and lit up his face for a moment. “They’re soft. I like the textures.”
His kimono rode up to his knees showing tanned calves. His arms were bare to the elbows. He was absently rubbing his forearms against the tops of the pillows.
“It looks like you’ve made a bit of a nest,” I told him.
“Oh?” He glanced down. Laughed. “Maybe.”
“Does that happen when you’re at home?”
He tilted his head. “I never thought about it. But I guess I like pillows. I slept with them lined up my sides in my bed last night. At home I have body pillows. I started to crave the support even before Coah died. And, well, they give me something to hug.”
“Pillows are a comfort.”
“I’ve got a few round ones, too. You know the ones with faces on them?”
I frowned, trying to picture them. “You mean like emoji pillows?”
