“Do you mind?” I said to Grey, putting a hand gently on his shoulder.
I was probably a little too tipsy—the rum he’d brought me was delicious, and even without the alcohol, I could hardly resist putting my hands all over him. But he kept rubbing his shoulder like he was in pain all night, and I couldn’t help but want to release the tension for him.
“Of course not,” he said, slipping his hand away from his shoulder and turning so that his back was toward me.
I lowered my other hand onto his shoulder and began to massage him. We were out on my back deck, and his skin felt so invitingly warm in the cool night air. The second I touched him, I could feel my cock responding under my pants. I’d wanted to feel him for weeks, and now he was right here under my palms.
“Oh God, that feels incredible,” he uttered, still clutching his own glass of rum in his hand.
I kept working over the spot of tension in his right shoulder, in slow and methodical strokes, listening to his even breaths.
“Jesus, how are you so good at this?” Grey mumbled, his voice relaxed and dreamlike.
“I’ve had a lot of odd jobs over the past couple years,” I said. “One of them was working at the front desk of a massage clinic. I never actually got formal training, but my coworkers practiced on me sometimes, and I asked them to teach me anything they could.”
“Well they did a pretty fucking good job,” he said, his head dropping backward as I rubbed near his neck.
“You really do have a lot of tension here,” I said, and then I found myself feeling bold—maybe from the alcohol, or maybe from how fucking beautifully he was responding to me. “Full honesty,” I said, “I offered to do this because I wanted to touch you, but this muscle is so knotted.”
He moaned a little.
“I know,” he said. “I’m aware that I probably need weekly massages, but not exactly in my budget.”
“Just come see me, then,” I said softly, roaming my hands firmly across his upper back, across his shoulders down at the sides of his spine.
He let out a slow laugh. “The things you do for me, Adam, I can’t ask you to do this, too.”
“I would, though,” I said, lowering my hands to his mid-back. “You need it bad, Grey.”
He let out a sort of strangled sound, like a half-moan half-whimper. It was absurdly sexy, and if there’d been any doubt about how much I wanted him, it was only confirmed when he made these sounds that went straight to my cock.
Grey gave into my touch as I worked my hands down lower, to the small of his back just above his hips. He leaned backward, lowering his head back so that it rested in the crook of my shoulder, so vulnerable and open.
“No one’s touched me like this in so long,” he said, his voice soft.
“That is a goddamn shame,” I said, low and near his ear. And it really was—Grey was so beautiful, so wound-up tight and just begging to be touched, that I couldn’t believe what he was telling me.
I had to feel his skin on mine. I reached down to the bottom hem of his shirt, and finally moved my hands up underneath the fabric and massaged the bare skin of his lower back. He was burning hot under my hands, and as I touched him there, he pressed his body back fully against me, his ass pushing up against my groin.
And he must have felt how hard I was, because he quickly leaned forward again, pausing, like he’d made a mistake. I stilled my hands, as well, not wanting to take this too far if he didn’t want me to.
But oh God, did I want to take it further. I wanted everything: him naked in my bed, my tongue on his skin, my lips on his mouth, my fingers inside him. I would take anything he would give me, and I’d wanted it since the minute I’d met him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice so quiet and weak. My hands were still steady on his back, but unmoving.
My cock was aching for him. But I had to be sure.
“Grey,” I said softly at the back of his neck.
“Mm?” he hummed.
“I have to say something,” I said, my heart pounding.
“I’m really afraid of making you uncomfortable,” I said.
There was a quick pause.
“Well, you’ve pretty much been doing the opposite of making me uncomfortable, Adam.”
I let out a small groan. So he was enjoying this as much as I was. And so I told him the truth.
“I… want to give you more than this,” I told him, keeping my voice low and leaning toward him again, pressing my chest to his back. “I want to take you inside and make you feel good, and I want to use more than my hands.”
“Oh my God,” he whined, and all at once he sank the weight of his body against me completely. There was no question that he felt my erection, now—he was practically grinding into me, and it was utterly perfect.
I leaned away slightly, my hands still gripped on his hips.
“But I really, really don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” I said again. “Because if you aren’t interested, if you’re not into this, all you have to do is tell me. Any time. I will stop if you say so.”
He swallowed, and finally turned around, twisting in my grip so that he was facing me. I stared down at him, and I saw that his eyes were just as lustful as mine, half-lidded and pupils wide. He looked like he wanted to absolutely devour me, wild and gorgeous under the moonlight.
He met my eyes. “Of course I fucking want you, Adam.”
And that was all I needed to hear.