Adventure of Jax 1

The door stays bolted. Lamplight pools low over the bed, the wall, and the neat spread of boots between them. The room feels hushed enough to hear leather breathe.

The Auctioneer kneels first, fingers reverent on a worn heel, while The Clerk sits close at Jax’s side, posture softened now that the world is shut out. Their attention keeps returning to the boots, then to Jax, then back again.

That lands like a vow in the small room. The Auctioneer leans in, breath quick, and The Clerk’s hand finds the edge of Jax’s boot, stroking the creases with careful, hungry devotion.

The Clerk reaches for Jax’s hand, then pauses, smiling shyly as if asking permission without words. A faint chuckle follows, soft and pleased, and the three of them linger in the quiet, still touching leather and each other.

Jax draws the Clerk in by the hand, and the Clerk answers by slipping out of their shoes. Bare feet settle at Jax’s lap, careful and trusting, as the room goes very still around the small, deliberate request.

The Clerk rubs their soles up and down over Jax’s thighs, slow as a ritual, while their other hand stays close to the bed as if ready to steady themselves or him. The Auctioneer watches from beside them, half smiling, half stunned by the tenderness of it.

The Clerk’s gaze flicks to the silver signet ring, then back to Jax, and their motion grows bolder. The boots on the bed shift as their knees press closer, warm leather and bare skin sharing the same narrow space.

The Auctioneer reaches in with one reverent hand and turns Jax’s offered boot just enough to inspect the crease, as if confirming the whole strange, soft bargain is still real. The Clerk keeps rubbing, steady and pleased, and the answer hangs there in the lamplight.

The Clerk takes Jax’s left boot with careful hands, cradling the worn leather like a promise. The Auctioneer shifts closer on the other side and steadies the right boot, his thumb resting once on the crease before he looks up.

For a breath, they all hold still in the lamplight. The Clerk’s guarded habit eases into open attention, and the Auctioneer’s half-smile turns softer as they meet each other’s eyes over Jax’s lap.

The silver signet ring catches a warm flare as the Clerk leans in a little farther, still holding Jax’s boot. The Auctioneer mirrors them, boots in hand, both of them visibly choosing the same quiet distance to close.