One thing more than anything else pokes at Bagoas' core when listening wide-eyed to Josef's words. It is a silly little thought, but significant enough to him that he can't quite be rid of it: Josef finds the strangest things desirable. Trust, diction, the closeness they've shared. It is not just his body on display before hungry eyes, but his mind, his voice... It baffles the mind.
He sits dazed; when having expected to be handed the sponge, when planning to keep himself on display - scrub himself down, lift his legs to the side out of the water like some manner of alluring sprite - and instead finding himself serviced. The only ones to ever do something like this for him were other servants, other dancers and entertainers helping to rub each other down after performances or competitions. For someone like Josef to willingly lower himself so... It seems a pattern. It makes some kind of sense, these few precious months after they met for the first time: if Josef is willing to lower himself some ways towards Bagoas' status, that Bagoas should attempt to raise himself up.
Equality. Such a strange, scintillating concept. And if neither of them are men by the respective standards of their times, then perhaps they can both be something different here. Something of their own choosing.
Under Josef's caring ministrations, Bagoas' heart rate goes up despite itself. He feels like he did all those times the postman found him, with letter upon letter revealing such breathtaking things time and again.
"You...strip me of my years," he says softly, feeling the truth of it on his own hot cheeks.
[Bagoas' (new) place]
He sits dazed; when having expected to be handed the sponge, when planning to keep himself on display - scrub himself down, lift his legs to the side out of the water like some manner of alluring sprite - and instead finding himself serviced. The only ones to ever do something like this for him were other servants, other dancers and entertainers helping to rub each other down after performances or competitions. For someone like Josef to willingly lower himself so... It seems a pattern. It makes some kind of sense, these few precious months after they met for the first time: if Josef is willing to lower himself some ways towards Bagoas' status, that Bagoas should attempt to raise himself up.
Equality. Such a strange, scintillating concept. And if neither of them are men by the respective standards of their times, then perhaps they can both be something different here. Something of their own choosing.
Under Josef's caring ministrations, Bagoas' heart rate goes up despite itself. He feels like he did all those times the postman found him, with letter upon letter revealing such breathtaking things time and again.
"You...strip me of my years," he says softly, feeling the truth of it on his own hot cheeks.