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Jack didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky with Dennis. After years— decades, even— of partner after partner who didn’t understand the way Jack liked to submit, countless people who viewed Jack’s amputated leg as an obstacle to their domination rather than simply another thing to take into consideration, Jack had managed to find Dennis. Dennis who was gentle and loving. Dennis who gazed at Jack like he’d hung the stars in the sky. Dennis who let Jack tend to him without ever asking Jack to be in control. Dennis, who had never made Jack feel like his disability was a burden, had never pitied Jack for even a moment.
When he and Dennis first started going out, it almost felt too good to be true, for both parties. Dennis wanted to be taken care of without having to lose the reins. He wanted a kind of care that didn’t feel patronizing to receive, one that made him feel valued, not just useful. He wanted to take pleasure, but he didn’t like force; it reminded him too much of the men back home. The men he’d been told for so long he’d have to serve one day, the men he never wanted to become. Jack was perfect for him. He loved doting on Dennis, loved doing whatever little things the younger man asked of him. And Dennis had never once asked something of Jack without consideration for his leg, Jack didn’t have to push for an accessible alternative when Dennis’ orders were already tailor-made for them.
--
Jack couldn’t remember when this particular routine of theirs had started, but it was one of his favorites. On nights Jack didn’t have work, after Dennis had come home and they’d eaten dinner together, Dennis would pull Jack in for a hug and crane his head up to speak into Jack’s ear, “You’re going to massage my feet tonight, baby.” It wasn’t a question, but a soft, firm command that lit something up in Jack’s heart. “Be ready for me when I’m done showering, okay?” Dennis would say as he pulled back to look Jack in the eye and see the way his eyebrows lifted in excitement and a smile spread across his lips. He’d lean in for a kiss, quick and chaste, before turning to walk towards the bathroom. A quick, “Be good for me, Jack,” thrown over his shoulder.
Tonight, Jack immediately went to their bedroom to gather everything he needed. The wooden tray they kept on the dresser when it wasn't in use, Jack’s glass bottles of massage oils that reminded him so much of the chrism he'd grown up with, a pot of Dennis’ favorite lotion (“It’s not too sticky, I like it”), and a pair of fluffy socks for Dennis. Jack would arrange all the throw pillows he barely tolerated, but Dennis loved so much, against the headboard, just how he knew Dennis liked it. Then, he would take his place in the center of their bed, with the socks and the tray of oils and lotion on the bed to his right and wait patiently for Dennis to come out of the bathroom.
Dennis loved these nights with Jack. Jack, who was so eager to please, so willing to dote on Dennis without ever demanding control; who, in fact, ached to give up control. Jack who thought of giving to Dennis as a gift for himself more than anything.
When he walked out of the restroom, dressed in soft shorts and one of Jack’s old t-shirts, he was greeted with the sight of his boyfriend sitting cross legged on the bed facing the bathroom door, waiting for Dennis to come to him. Dennis smiled, “Look’s like someone’s ready for me, hmm?” he asked as he walked over to the bed, depositing himself amidst the pillows Jack had set up for him, crossing his legs as he sat down.
“Always ready for you, dear,” Jack said as he readjusted his place on the bed. He was now facing the headboard where Dennis sat, his left leg stretched in front of him, foot ending near Dennis’ hips, and his residual limb folded in front. He reached for Dennis’ legs and arranged his feet in his lap, ankles resting on Jack’s residual limb.
Jack reached for a bottle of massage oil, pouring a small amount into his hands, and began spreading it along Dennis’s feet and up his ankles and calves. He worked his thumbs in small circles along the arch of Dennis’ right foot, pulling a groan from the younger man.
“Feels good, baby. You’re so good to me,” Dennis said, eyes soft and loving as he gazed down at Jack.
Jack only hummed in response, he never spoke much when they did this, preferring to focus all his energy solely on his task of tending to Dennis. There had always been a part of Jack that ached to tend to and maintain that which he loved. Jack found it soothing to be able to sit at Dennis’ feet and rub the ache of a day’s work away, so that was exactly what he did. He would sit there for twenty, maybe thirty, minutes rubbing gentle but firm circles into the soles of Dennis’ feet and up through his calves without speaking. He’d hum when Dennis spoke to him, an acknowledgement that he was always listening, which was all Dennis ever asked for on these nights. Jack rubbed massage oil into Dennis’ skin with a kind of reverence Dennis had never received before this relationship. Jack turned Dennis’ body into the site of near-holy devotion, rubbing massage oil into his skin as though he were anointing Dennis.
After a while, Jack would sit up, straighten his back, look up at Dennis, and run his thumbs soothingly along Dennis’ ankles. His way of asking, “Did I get every spot?” before he moved onto lotion.
“It’s perfect, baby. My feet feel amazing,” Dennis replied, smiling sweetly at Jack.
Jack cracked a smile of his own, his answering hum higher and happier. He reached for the lotion Dennis loved so much and began to work it into Dennis’ feet. He applied it with same reverence he did the oil, slow and methodical. Jack wasn’t one for making mistakes, especially not when it came to taking care of what he treasured most.
When he was done, Jack grabbed the socks he’d picked out for Dennis and laid them over his good leg. He held up Dennis’ right foot and leaned forward to press a tender kiss into his ankle before grabbing a sock and rolling it up Dennis’ foot. He repeated the same thing on the other side, gazing up at Dennis as he kissed his ankle.
“You’re perfect for me, Jack. Got so lucky with you,” Dennis said as he watched Jack roll a sock up his left foot. He never could figure out how Jack managed to make it feel sexy when Dennis exclusively wore patterned, fuzzy socks (usually gifted to him by Trinity) to bed, but his man always found a way.
Jack sat back up and looked at Dennis, “Love these nights with you, dear.”
“Me too, baby, me too,” Dennis said before turning slightly to grab some of the pillows he’d been propped up against. “Now throw these on the bench for me so you can come up here and hold me,” he said as he handed Jack the pillows.
Jack chuckled as he took them and turned around so he could toss them onto the bench at the foot of their bed. Dennis loved those throw pillows, but he understood Jack drew the line at actually sleeping with that many on the bed. Jack also set the tray of oils and lotions on the bench, they’d put everything away in the morning.
“Come up here, babe, you need to cuddle me,” Dennis said when Jack turned around. He’d already scooched over to his side of the bed and pulled the blankets down for them both to get under.
Jack made his way up the bed and under the covers where he could pull Dennis into his arms. Jack liked being the big spoon with Dennis, tucking his nose into Dennis’ curls and holding one hand firmly over his heart. One of his many ways of silently saying, “Thank you for letting me take care of you.”
“Love you so much, Den,” Jack whispered from where he had his face pressed into Dennis’ hair.
Dennis wiggled an arm free to grab Jack’s hand and squeeze it firmly. “Love you too, baby. Always so good to me.”
--
Jack and Dennis had a rare few days off together and they were spending it doing all the little date ideas they didn’t usually have time for. Today, they had woken up early to go to the farmer’s market together before spending the afternoon shopping for Dennis— he needed to update his wardrobe and Jack was paying. Dennis had managed to convince Jack to use his wheelchair today (“An entire day out and about on your crutches will hurt your wrists, baby. How will you give me massages if that happens?”) but he had still spent the entire day on his feet, and they both knew what that meant.
When they got home, everything went as expected. Jack showered as Dennis cooked dinner (Jack took care for the most part, but food was Dennis’ pride and joy). Jack came out on his crutches just as dinner was finished, they ate side by side, knees brushing, just like they always did. They made their way to the couch to wind down with TV for a bit. When Dennis was ready to fully close out their night, he turned to face Jack before speaking, “Jack, love?”
“Yes, dear?”
“It’s a foot massage night. Get everything ready while I shower, okay?” Dennis said, just like he always did.
What Dennis hadn’t expected was the nervous look he found on Jack’s face after telling him a foot massage was in order tonight.
“Jack? What is it?” Dennis asked. He was worried, Jack had never shown anything but excitement when he was told to give Dennis a massage.
Jack was staring at his feet as he spoke, “I just- It’s nothing, dear. Let’s just go-”
Dennis cut him off, “No, Jack, we’re not doing this. Look at me, baby,” Dennis demanded, reaching for Jack’s cheeks and tilting his face just right to look in his eyes. “Whatever’s bothering you, you tell me. Okay?”
“Nothing’s bothering me,” Jack started. “It’s just… I was wondering if we could try something a little different tonight?”
“Different how, baby?” Dennis asked, he was always open to Jack’s suggestions, but he also wanted to preserve the sanctity of foot massage night as it was.
Jack sighed before speaking. “Can I wash your feet, dear?” Jack asked, his voice was low, almost shy. “I’d still massage them afterwards, of course. Just thought it would be a nice step to add,” Jack said, his eyes meeting Dennis’ again, slightly watery but filled with hope.
Dennis lit up when he processed what Jack had just asked him for. “Oh my God. Yeah, yes, we can definitely do that.”
Jack raised his eyebrows in shock; Dennis was downright giddy about this. “Really? Are you sure?” Jack asked.
“So sure, baby, so sure. Get your tray ready and I’ll think about logistics while I shower. Not letting you sit on the floor; your back will never recover.”
“I’m not that old, Den,” Jack tried countering.
“I said what I said, no floor. I’ll think of something, don’t worry. I can’t wait, baby,” Dennis said, smile plastered across his face. He leaned in to kiss Jack’s temple and with that, Dennis was off the couch and down the hall to the bedroom.
Jack was smiling to himself as Dennis strode away, of course he’d agreed, Dennis always took to Jack’s servitude just right; in a way that fulfilled them both.
He grabbed his crutches and headed to the bedroom to transfer to his wheelchair. He knew what he wanted to use to wash Dennis’ feet tonight, but he couldn’t carry it while on crutches, and he was pretty sure Dennis would kill him if he put his prosthesis on at home.
--
When Dennis came out of the shower, he saw that the bed was made up with all of Dennis’ pillows and their usual tray of massage oils and lotion was placed at the center. But rather than taking his typical waiting spot in the center of the bed, Jack was sitting in his wheelchair at the foot of the bed. He had a large, wide ceramic bowl Dennis had never seen before, a medium sized bowl with a washcloth draped over the side, a glass dish small enough to be held in one hand, and a small towel all piled within one another and resting on his lap.
“Hey, baby, got everything you need?” Dennis asked as he walked over to Jack to take a closer look.
“Yes, dear. How do you want me?” Jack asked in response, eyes practically glittering from how he was trying to contain his excitement, but Dennis could tell just how much getting to do this meant to Jack.
“Follow me,” Dennis said as he turned back towards the bathroom.
Jack followed, stopping in the doorframe as he watched Dennis grab the small, plastic footstool they kept in the shower and carry it over to the counter. Dennis placed the stool in front of the counter, just to the right of where the sink was, before he hoisted himself up and sat on the counter, legs dangling off the ledge and feet hanging just above the stool. He waved Jack forward until he stopped just in front of the stool.
“How does this work for you? I was thinking you could fill the big basin and put it on the stool, and you’d be able to stay in your chair the whole time until we get in bed,” Dennis explained, looking down to where Jack was sitting.
“That’s perfect, dear,” Jack said as he smiled up at his boyfriend.
It took Jack a couple trips between where Dennis was perched and the shower to fill the ceramic bowls with soap and water as he saw fit (soapy water in the large one and warm, clean water in the medium one), but once he’d set everything up to his liking he parked himself across from Dennis’ feet and got to work.
Jack began by dunking the washcloth into the basin of soapy water and gently scrubbing the soles of Dennis’ feet. He knew Dennis had showered already, and likely didn’t actually need his feet washed, but this wasn’t about the practicalities of cleaning. This was about Jack asserting his humanity within his care and service to Dennis. This was about rewriting the rituals he’d grown up adoring when he was a little kid in catechesis. This was about service as devotion, strength in caretaking.
Jack found comfort in caring for a part of Dennis that he himself had lost. There was something about the permanence, or lack thereof, that pulled Jack to cherish and love the parts of Dennis that he no longer held. For Jack, tending to Dennis’ feet was a way of saying, “Whether these see you through the next week, decade, or lifetime, not a day will go by where they’re neglected. Not while I’m around.”
After lathering Dennis’ feet in soap up to his ankles, Jack reached for the small glass dish. He dunked it into the basin of clean water to fill it, before he pulled it up to begin rinsing Dennis’ feet.
Dennis’ breath caught in his throat when he felt the warm water begin to fall over the tops of his feet.
Jack noticed immediately, pausing his ministrations and putting the glass dish down so his hands were free to caress Dennis’ calves. “Dear? Are you okay?” Jack asked, voice low and gentle, eyes gazing up at Dennis with worry.
Dennis hadn’t realized how choked up he was until he tried responding, “I’m- fuck- I’m more than okay, baby. It’s just-” He cut himself off, wiping a stray tear from his cheek.
Jack didn’t rush him; he kept up the soothing circles he was drawing in Dennis’ skin as he waited for his boyfriend to continue.
“When I was a kid,” Dennis began, “I never got to have this,” he said as he gestured to the basins of water at his feet, at Jack at his feet. “I- I was always told that I’d be the one washing someone’s feet, because I was going to be someone’s wife and that’s what wives do, y’know?” Dennis laughed, not his typical earnest laugh that Jack adored, but a dry one that felt dishonest.
Jack smiled at Dennis as he went to retrieve the glass dish again, beginning to rinse Dennis’ feet once more before he spoke. “I love you, Den. For what it’s worth, I didn’t know that. This,” Jack gestured in front of himself, “isn’t something I was taught to associate with wives. It’s about tending to those who take care of you. Getting down to the feet of the people who you cherish most. That’s what I wanted, why I asked for this.”
“I’m glad you asked,” Dennis said with a watery smile, he noticed how the corners of Jack’s mouth ticked up at that. “It feels really, really nice to get to have this. I never thought I’d ever get to have this.”
“I’ll happily give it to you whenever you want, dear. For as long as you want it,” Jack said, sure and reassuring.
As Jack began toweling Dennis’ feet dry, Dennis felt his heart seizing in his chest. How lucky did he have to be to find a man whose own notions of servitude somehow managed to rewrite Dennis’ own history with notions of “biblical servitude”? Dennis realized, then, that this addition to their preexisting ritual felt almost gender affirming. He’d never seen women’s feet washed in church growing up, and even if Jack had when he was young, Dennis still felt like this was a reclamation of sorts.
“I’m like a real man now,” Dennis chuckled to himself.
“My favorite man,” Jack whispered back.
“I love you, Jack,” Dennis smiled. “Clean up in here and meet me in bed for my massage, okay?”
Jack hummed, already beginning to gather his things.
--
Jack wheeled out to the bedroom a handful of minutes later and transferred to the bed. Jack gave Dennis his foot massage as he always did, reverently, methodically, lovingly. He kissed Dennis’ ankles as he always did, though this time he pressed additional ones to the tops of his feet as well, before rolling on his socks. And their night ended with Dennis cradled in Jack’s arms, heart beating steadily underneath his palm.
“I think you’re going to wash my feet every time I have you massage them,” Dennis said into the quiet darkness of their bedroom.
“It would be my pleasure, dear,” Jack responded, pressing a kiss into the crown of Dennis’ head.