“You keep rubbing your neck. Mind if I try?” There are probably reasons Bellamy should refuse the offer. He doesn’t know Rakos. He doesn’t trust him. But his thoughts are muddled with pain and the fluttering warmth of Rakos’s laughter. He scoots forward and bows his head. The tension only builds as Rakos shuffles through the fallen leaves behind him. Kneels at his back, the heat of him radiating through the night. “It won’t fix my head,” Bellamy says, as Rakos’s fingers alight on his shoulders. “Maybe it will still feel good. No, it’ll feel amazing. I’m amazing at this.”
