[I love how this is all going and how real it does seem! Sex and disability is one of those cultural taboos that so rarely gets touched, and Charles' resistance to the idea is just very human--it's not simply his own hang up, but something reinforced by a world that by no means validates a man in a wheelchair as a sexual being. I'm trying to think of movies that deal with the subject and the only one I can think of is Born on the Fourth of July. It's just such an invisible topic that almost no one talks about. (Also omfg this week is kicking my ass something fierce. I don't even.)]
"I don't think any of those would really compare," Aurus returned honestly, pushing himself up from his chair. "There's something singular and irreducible about paralysis. The part of you that's gone also isn't: you see it there every day. I think that must be harder."
Taking a few steps across the room, he paused a half stride behind Charles' chair, just to his side--like he was standing at his shoulder, though perhaps the height different between them didn't make it seem so.
"You have no real reason to trust me. Certainly not with a matter like this. I know that. I still think that you should trust me though." He paused. He wanted to reach out and lay a hand on Charles' arm, or touch his hair. In his mind, he could see himself kneeling beside the chair, bringing the two of them nearly level. He could see the ways that they might touch, all the things those touches might convey. But his hands stayed by his sides.
"How long has it been since the accident? How many years since you've let yourself be touched--I don't just mean sexually, but intimately. And have you not taken a lover in all that time?"
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"I don't think any of those would really compare," Aurus returned honestly, pushing himself up from his chair. "There's something singular and irreducible about paralysis. The part of you that's gone also isn't: you see it there every day. I think that must be harder."
Taking a few steps across the room, he paused a half stride behind Charles' chair, just to his side--like he was standing at his shoulder, though perhaps the height different between them didn't make it seem so.
"You have no real reason to trust me. Certainly not with a matter like this. I know that. I still think that you should trust me though." He paused. He wanted to reach out and lay a hand on Charles' arm, or touch his hair. In his mind, he could see himself kneeling beside the chair, bringing the two of them nearly level. He could see the ways that they might touch, all the things those touches might convey. But his hands stayed by his sides.
"How long has it been since the accident? How many years since you've let yourself be touched--I don't just mean sexually, but intimately. And have you not taken a lover in all that time?"