[He goes willingly, climbing onto the bed after Dodger and pulling his shirt over his head. He lets it drop off the side, forgotten before it hits the floor, and pushes Dodger with one hand so he lies back against the blankets.]

I know you're fine. You said that. I want you to feel good.

[Christian lets the energy he's channeling into his hand wash over Dodger's body, focusing on pleasure and a gentle warmth, like a comfortable bath that he can guide over the bruises and ease the tension Dodger always seems to have under his cool attitude. He kneels on the bed and runs his fingers over Dodger's ribs, tickling the skin with a smile.]

Maybe I'm asking because I like it. Do my questions bother you that much? I just want to get to know you a little.