Except now, Elliot askedmeto take care of him, agreed tomyterms.
That means I’m going to do some poking and prodding to see if I can finally get some answers.
Hopefully Leo will be on board with all of that and able to give me guidance.
Normally, Elliot does all of this alone, even eschewing a personal valet for everything other than shopping, laundry, and coordinating his luggage—after Elliot packs it himself. He’s fully capable of self-care, but when he’s inmycare, the boywillbe forced toletme do these things for him.
Before we hit the campaign trail, Elliotwillneed to learn to let go to me in all the ways that he can so he can focus on the big picture.
I rest one hand high on his left thigh, above where I know Duck’s sleeve ends, and cup his right calf with the other as I look into his eyes. “We okay?”
He finally nods despite the pensive scowl that darkens his gaze and folds furrows in his brow.
Next step, I remove his left shoe and sock from Duck. He doesn’t use a foot shell on the bottom of this leg, just a regular sock over the foot. Then I have him stand so I can pull his slacks and boxers down to his knees before I make him sit again and finish stripping him.
He’s not hard now.
Igetit. He’s having a difficult time looking me in the eyes, too.
I reach up and cup his cheek. “Watch me,” I gently say. “Eyes onme.” It’s what Leo told him in the past when I’ve witnessed this.
I know it’s always bothered Leo that he’s never been able to really pierce Elliot’s walls to find outwhyhe reacts like this. Leo did some research, and, sure, some people have a more difficult time emotionally adjusting to being an amputee than others.
Except Elliot’s overall reaction isn’t the norm. Even his PTSD doesn’t adequately explain why he acts borderline ashamed of this part of the process.
Now, I wish I’d kept the larger picture in mind back then and queried Leo about it. My emotional pain kept my mind slammed shut and tamped down on my empathy. I didn’t reallycareback then why Elliot acted so damned goofy about donning and removing his leg.
Damn right, I care now.
I roll down the sleeve first, partway down his thigh, using the towel as I go to dry the sweat that’s accumulated both on his leg and inside the sleeve. Once I roll the sleeve down, I help him lift his leg from Duck. I set Duck aside, remove the two socks he was wearing over the liner, and then roll the liner down and off his leg while watching his face for any reaction to indicate pain that he might not otherwise disclose to me.
All this will have to be washed, of course, because of sweat. Next, I carefully strip off the inner sock he wears over his limb. It’s a moisture-wicking kind to help pull the sweat away from his skin.
I pat his skin dry and then shove away the memories of Leo doing this.
This has to beus. Me, and Elliot.
We have to establish our own “dance,” our own protocols. Which we’ll build on the foundation of what Leo gave us, but still, we need something that’sours. Elliot wants me to lead, which means he’ll need to followme, not Leo.
He shivers as I lightly stroke his left leg, down, around his knee, the shrapnel scars there. Lower, along his limb, and the scars from his amputation. I look for any signs of redness, blisters, or other skin issues, although I’ll have to wait until I have him in the bathroom and under better light to closely examine him.
I didn’t want this first time to be under bright lights, though. I knew that would only amplify his stress.
Except I follow Leo’s lead—I lean in and kiss his left knee, feathering my lips down and around his shin, to the bottom of his limb, around again and up.
In his lap, his cock twitches.
Smiling, I stand and hold out my hands to him. He takes them and stands, and I get his walker. He’s bad about hopping around when he shouldn’t. Leo scolds him about it, swears Elliot’s going to fall and bust his ass one day, hurt himself, and be sorry he didn’t listen.
Last thing I need are stories in the news about Elliot hurting himself—and calling into question his physical fitness to serve as POTUS. Right now, his opponents will be desperately looking for anything to leverage against him to tip the scales from “decorated wounded veteran” to “disabled guy won’t make a strong leader.”
Yeah, I paid a lot of attention to Leo, Kev, and others during my years working in the White House. I listened.
I learned.
I’m going to be ruthless in my support of Elliot.
Sure, there’s an element there of me wanting to make Leo proud of me, but I’ve already beaten plenty of odds in my life, as has Elliot. As has Leo. Not to mention, I still have my “disguise.”
