[ Oh, he's not letting go. That is a problem. For most spells, he needs his hands free to cast. While he doesn't intend to do so eminently, having his primary means of self-defense partially negated leaves an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. That Sherwood is close enough to murmur into his ear adds another dimension to this discomfort, even if it is ostensibly to keep this conversation between them. The puff of warm breath causes an involuntary shiver down his spine.
Objectively, Caleb can recognize that Sherwood's assessment is correct. He doesn't want to be responsible for passing the disease onto others, and he's unsteady enough on his feet that it doubtlessly would be safer to be treated--no, he's tired of the euphemisms--to be fucked here. He's been told his case is rather advanced. But this place makes his skin crawl, and in this vulnerable state he'd much prefer being with someone familiar than whomever he happens to be sharing a room with. ]
I have friends who I believe would assist me should I ask, yes.
[ He attempts to ease his hand free of Sherwood's grip. The timing is unfortunate, as a more painful scratching sensation in his throat quickly causes him to turn his face away, coughing into his shoulder. The culprit becomes apparent as several blue thistle flowers tumble from his lips to the sterile floor. Staring down at them, he swallows hard against the lingering ache. Not so very different, really, from the feeling earned by allowing someone's cock thorough use of his throat, but lacking the far more enjoyable context. ]
no subject
[ Oh, he's not letting go. That is a problem. For most spells, he needs his hands free to cast. While he doesn't intend to do so eminently, having his primary means of self-defense partially negated leaves an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. That Sherwood is close enough to murmur into his ear adds another dimension to this discomfort, even if it is ostensibly to keep this conversation between them. The puff of warm breath causes an involuntary shiver down his spine.
Objectively, Caleb can recognize that Sherwood's assessment is correct. He doesn't want to be responsible for passing the disease onto others, and he's unsteady enough on his feet that it doubtlessly would be safer to be treated--no, he's tired of the euphemisms--to be fucked here. He's been told his case is rather advanced. But this place makes his skin crawl, and in this vulnerable state he'd much prefer being with someone familiar than whomever he happens to be sharing a room with. ]
I have friends who I believe would assist me should I ask, yes.
[ He attempts to ease his hand free of Sherwood's grip. The timing is unfortunate, as a more painful scratching sensation in his throat quickly causes him to turn his face away, coughing into his shoulder. The culprit becomes apparent as several blue thistle flowers tumble from his lips to the sterile floor. Staring down at them, he swallows hard against the lingering ache. Not so very different, really, from the feeling earned by allowing someone's cock thorough use of his throat, but lacking the far more enjoyable context. ]