Moonlight glances off the wheelchair by the bed.
Rasp of tongue on taut nipple.
A husky moan.
Yes, he can still feel this. There’s still pleasure here--pleasure for both. Partners in this as everything.
“What do you want, Ray?”
A whimper of frustration. Hot hungry mouths, caressing hands, the press of naked bodies--one whole, one broken. Legs motionless. Soft hair, smooth skin, wet eyes blinking hard.
“I can’t feel--” Sweet catch of breath.
The wicked tease of teeth and tongue--and knowing fingers. “You feel that, Ray?”
Doyle’s unsteady, sinful laugh.
-- THE END --