Johnson’s head was spinning, but the pure numbness from the punch to the hole in his side kept him from passing into unconsciousness. As the room came back into focus, he touched the corner of his mouth half-expecting the feel bile.
Clean. Must always keep up appearances it seems.
A hand was reached out to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it just yet. As his core muscles relaxed, he exhaled after what seemed an inordinate amount of time.
“I…er..well.”
He groaned as he pushed himself up on his elbows.
“I appreciate the gesture, but surprisingly I’m more comfortable here than I’ve been in a while.”
Johnson’s eyes rolled slightly to the back of his head and returned. Truth be told, laying down and being able to relax his abdominal muscles was quite comfortable in comparison to the almost month-long cockpit marathon from the Omegas.
His hand went to his bandages. There was a fresh flow of blood, but it was slight. What Johnson reckoned to be the fist that throttled him apparently broke the bandage webbing at the stab wound’s entrance.
“Assuming that’s the same hand that put me here, it seems I’ve been . . . penetrated. And here I try not to kiss on the first date.”
He let his head hit the floor again.
“Sorry if I came off the wrong way. . . “
He groaned to crane his head back up to meet the hand.