by Sean Michael
“Whatever your favorite is. I’m easy.”
“My favorite changes, but right now it’s the white cheddar. I guess it depends on my taste buds’ moods.” He laughed at himself and found the bottle with the white cheddar powder. “Can you reach the remote from where you are?”
“Yeah. I can wait for you, though.” Barclay looked more relaxed already. Without the pinched features, he looked less tired too.
“Sure.” Rec put the popcorn in one big bowl and poured melted margarine over it, then added the flavoring. He had a few pieces—quality control and all. Then he headed back to Barclay. “Here we go.”
“Smells nice. Thank you.” Barclay held himself carefully, leg muscles jumping and leaping restlessly. No wonder the guy looked tired—Rec had a hunch that might be keeping Barclay awake.
He sat next to Barclay and grabbed the remote, turned the TV on. “You okay?”
“I am. Sorry. I can’t stop it.”
“Your physiotherapy ever include massage?” What those poor muscles needed was some ease.
“No. I learned to deal with it. It’s just distracting at first.”
That was crazy. “Well, if you want, I could give you a massage in between movies. Or during any slow bits.”
“I’m fine. I’ll hold them down.” Barclay grabbed his quads and squeezed them, the big muscles stilling.
“You see? They need a massage.” Rec leaned over and rubbed one leg, letting the warmth of his hand seep in past the sweats. “I don’t mind, honest.” He couldn’t let someone hurt when there was something he could do. Especially if it was something easy like giving a massage.
“I didn’t come over for you to have to work. This is… this isn’t cool, man. We’re just supposed to be dudes watching a movie.”
He lifted his hands and put them up. He hadn’t expected Barclay to be quite so prickly. “I don’t mind, but if you don’t want me to, that’s cool.” Someone needed a keeper, needed to make Barclay accept help.
“I just… I want to be normal again.” Barclay gave him an apologetic look. “Just for a minute.”
“Okay, sure.” He nudged Barclay’s shoulder. “I’ll get the movie on and shut up already.” He did exactly that: turned the TV on, then the Blu-ray player, and started the movie. “Iron Man isn’t my favorite—I think Tony Stark is an ass, actually. But it’s part of the universe, and I’m a bit of a completist, you know?”
“That makes sense. At least he’s easy on the eyes.”
Rec laughed. “My favorite is Thor.” He may have already told Barclay that, now that he thought about it. Oh well, it bore repeating. “That man is yummy.”
“He’s stacked, for sure. I’ve always admired guys that could bulk up.”
“You could if you wanted to—though it wouldn’t help you in your work or doing the ninja stuff.” Stacked muscles were not conducive to parkour. That took a super solid core and more compact muscles.
“I’m not apt to it. I’m naturally lean. It’s cool.” Barclay shrugged easily. “Everyone wants what they’re not.”
“I’m in the business of helping folks achieve whatever it is they want.” He was pretty good at it too, if he did say so himself, but he knew what Barclay meant. The grass always did seem greener on the other side. Until you got there and realized it was pretty much the same grass.
The movie finally started and Rec settled in, taking a handful of popcorn.
Barclay watched, hands on his thighs, laughing softly at the jokes. Rec found himself splitting his attention between Barclay and the movie, thoroughly enjoying having someone there with him. Barclay looked like a California surfer somehow—towheaded with bright blue eyes, a nice broad set of shoulders, and a teeny-tiny waist.
He was sexy in a casual, delicious way. And he needed a keeper from what Rec could see. There was something vulnerable that called to Rec. Did that make him creepy? Surely not. No, that was in his nature to notice and care. It was a part of his makeup. That was why he was a personal trainer. It was also why he was a Dom.
It was why he was sitting there watching Iron Man, trying to figure out how to get Barclay to let him massage those poor leg muscles. Was it really that odd for him to do that for Barclay even though they’d gotten together to watch movies? He didn’t think so. On the other hand, he belonged to a community where they were more aware of their bodies and their needs and were always ready to lend a helping hand.
Eventually Barclay began to shift, body searching for comfort, for ease, and Rec knew those poor muscles were screaming again. He put his hand back on Barclay’s thigh and squeezed lightly, knowing that and the heat of his hand had to be helping. Maybe he could parlay that into a massage if Barclay’s pain was stronger than his stubbornness.
“Oh….” Barclay’s groan was pure need.
Damn, he should have done this sooner. Rec kept working that thigh with the one hand, digging his fingers in and insisting that Barclay’s muscles ease.
“It…. That… that’s nice.” That was not a request to stop.
“Cool. I’ll just keep doing it, then.” Maybe Barclay would let him do a proper job of it before the day was done.
“You sure? Because….” Barclay leaned into it, eyes going heavy lidded. Okay, maybe Barclay would actually let him do a proper job of it now. Rec sure hoped so.
“Yeah, I know it feels good. Finally getting some relief, eh? Don’t you worry, I don’t mind doing it. I like knowing I’m helping.” He kept talking softly, almost randomly. He figured keeping a conversation going might help Barclay feel less weird about it.
Another groan tore from Barclay’s throat. “Thank you. God. Thank you.”
“You want to sit sideways on the couch for a while? If you rest your back against the arm, I can get your other leg too.” He patted his lap, totally willing to have Barclay put his legs over it.
Barclay hesitated for a moment. “It’s not too weird?”
“Nope.” How long had Barclay been living without touch? Since the accident? Longer? “Come on. Let’s do this.” He reached for Barclay’s legs, helping the guy get them across his lap.
The muscles felt strong, solid, the damage bad but not impossible. Rec worked the muscles in the leg he hadn’t touched yet. They were hard, trembling beneath his touch. Poor baby. Someone needed contact.
He kept massaging, but every now and then would simply rub his palm along Barclay’s leg, wishing Barclay had worn shorts so he had access to skin. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
“Sorry, huh? This isn’t a thing I do. Let some guy touch me.”
“Hey, I’m a professional. Granted not a physiotherapist, but personal trainer’s in the same general area, right?” He kept massaging, working them a little harder now that he’d warmed the muscles up. He was going to bring Barclay some relief, dammit.
“Yeah. Yeah, I guess. How’d you get into the job?”
“I started out in premed at university and hated it. But I liked working out, and I liked the sports side of medicine. Personal training seemed like a natural fit and meant I didn’t have to do the whole school thing.”
“Ah. Cool. That’s seriously cool.”
“I think my folks were disappointed I wasn’t continuing with med school. Mom wanted a doctor in the family.” Rec shrugged. It wasn’t their life, it was his, and he was happy with what he was doing.
“Huh. They’ll get over it.” Barclay smiled at him, the look commiserating.
“Yep. She only mentions it twice a day when I go visit them—they’re in Halifax now. Dad’s half-retired. He was a vet, and he’s on the list for shelters. Apparently he gets called out a fair bit and never can manage to turn them down, to hear Mom tell it anyway.”
“Ah. Mine are both teachers.”
“Yeah? What do they think of your job as a stuntman?” He bet any parent would worry if their kid did the kind of work where you could fall and hurt yourself as badly as Barclay had—or worse.
“They hate it, but they love it at the s
ame time. You know how that is, right? They want you to be safe, but it’s a neat thing to brag about to their friends and students.”
“I get that. So you don’t get hassled every time you call. That’s good. Are they in town?” Rec couldn’t imagine them letting Barclay go through this on his own if they did.
“They live about an hour away. Just the other side of Hamilton. I stayed with them right out of the hospital.”
“They don’t have any idea how hard things are you for you right now, do they?” His massage was working—Barclay’s muscles beginning to loosen, Rec could feel it. It seemed to be loosening Barclay’s tongue too—this was the most information he’d gotten yet.
“I’m okay. I’m okay.” Barclay was beginning to shiver.
“Are you cold?” He could grab a blanket if that was the case. Rec had a hunch it was more that the sudden ease of his muscles had Barclay’s body confused than he was cold.
“No. Not at all.”
“Is anything hurting?” If it wasn’t, he was totally putting the shaking down to the sudden and unusual ease of Barclay’s muscles and just ignoring it.
“No. No, it’s just shaking. I can’t help it.”
“Okay, no worries, I just wanted to make sure.” He turned his attention back to the movie. Oh, he’d missed the middle part while focusing on Barclay. He didn’t mind that at all.
Barclay melted into the sofa, eyes on Rec’s hands. Rec kept massaging, working all the way down to Barclay’s feet, then slowly moving back up to Barclay’s thighs. Pretty. Those long legs were damn pretty. Even if he couldn’t actually see them. They felt that way, though. He’d bet Barclay was a treat to watch doing parkour.
Rec hummed and danced his fingers over Barclay’s sweats, wishing again that they were off, that he was sliding his fingers along skin. The urge to actually see washed over him.
“Have you got scars?” he asked quietly. It would make sense of Barclay did.
“Lots.”
“I imagine a lot of them are going to fade over time, aren’t they?” There were also oils and crap you could use that did a decent job at helping the skin to heal up.
“I think so, yeah. I mean, I had a bunch before, right? I just have new ones now.”
“That’s kind of sexy, isn’t it? Makes you seem dangerous.” He laughed at himself. God, he was a dork.
“Dangerous? Shit, man, I’m just a dude who throws himself off buildings.”
“That’s kind of hot.” More than kind of, really. Okay, so he was a big-time super dork.
“I hope it will be again.”
He patted Barclay’s thighs. “You’ll get there. I know being patient is hard, but I swear if you take the time you need, you’ll get there.”
“I know. I’ll figure it out. I can’t do anything else.” Barclay’s shrug seemed fairly casual, like it wasn’t bothering him just at the moment.
“And you don’t have to do it alone. You’ve got people in your corner. A new friend….”
“Thanks, man. Seriously.”
“You’re seriously welcome.” He let his hands rest on Barclay’s thighs.
“I…. Dude, I might spring wood. It’s been a while.”
Rec thought about what to say about that—frankly, he had no problem with it. In fact, he rather liked knowing his touch would be enough to make Barclay hard. “Okay. We said we’re friends. I’m happy to be friends with benefits.” And he was already semihard himself from the touching, though he’d been ignoring that so as not to make Barclay notice and feel awkward.
“You don’t think that’s weird? You being my trainer?”
“I don’t think it’s weird. I can still train you. If it’s weird to you, though, if you don’t want it… well, I guess then it would be up to you what you’d rather do. Train with me or have benefits with me.” He hoped Barclay wanted both.
“I don’t know what I want. Shit, when did things get so complicated? I remember when two guys could just fuck.”
“Hey, I’m good with that. Wanna get each other off?” Now that they were talking about it, he didn’t have a semi anymore, he was going for full-on hard.
“Sure. Sure, I mean, I haven’t since the accident, so if it doesn’t work, it’s not you. It’s the back.”
Now that surprised him. “You haven’t been masturbating?” That was a long time to go without getting any erections.
“Things haven’t been working. I mean, I was pretty hurt and I’m tired all the time.” Barclay’s cheeks went bright red. “I mean… shit. Let’s just watch our movie.”
“You got it. If things come up….” He kept his hands where they were, thumb rubbing along Barclay’s leg. He wasn’t going to force it by going for Barclay’s junk or anything like that, but if Barclay got hard from his simple touches, well then, that was a different story entirely.
“Yeah.”
Rec didn’t stress the nerves in Barclay’s voice. It was okay. Just breathe. In and out. What happened happened.
He kept his eyes half on the movie, half on Barclay, enjoying the feeling of Barclay’s legs beneath his hands. He could feel the strength hidden in the muscles, waiting to be coaxed out again.
At some point, Barclay touched his fingers, returning the caresses, so gently, so carefully.
Rec smiled but didn’t say anything, figuring Barclay had to decide for himself if he wanted more than to just watch movies. Rec would admit that he’d be disappointed if they didn’t at least try, but this was Barclay’s decision and he could exercise that patience muscle he’d told Barclay about.
It was sort of lovely, actually: the waiting, the anticipation. It built slowly, filling the room with this sexual tension that eventually made him aware of each breath he took, of the beating of his own heart. All they were doing was sitting there, his hands on Barclay’s legs, Barclay’s fingers occasionally touching his, and yet it was some of the hottest foreplay he’d ever indulged in.
At some point they both reached for the popcorn at the same time. Their fingers tangled, and they both gasped.
Rec chuckled, sliding his fingers against Barclay’s on purpose. Then he offered the bowl to Barclay, letting him have first choice of what was left.
Barclay met his gaze, then held up a piece of popcorn to his lips. Rec opened his mouth and took the piece, his lips closing over Barclay’s fingers. They were salty, but there was a distinct flavor beneath the popcorn and white cheddar taste.
“Is it good?” Barclay asked.
“Yeah. Totally. The popcorn is tasty too.” God that was cheesy. Rec grinned, though, going with it. He’d already proven himself to be a dork.
“Cool. Your turn to feed me.” Oh. Oh, okay. That was adorable.
Rec grabbed a single piece of popcorn and pressed it gently against Barclay’s lips. “Open up.”
Barclay did, lips parting sweet and slow, tongue coming out to steal the kernel. Rec groaned, heat flaring in the pit of his stomach, and his cock jerked, making itself known. That was hot as hell, and it was even better when the little pink tongue flicked out to taste his skin.
He let his fingers linger and slide along Barclay’s soft lips. There was something super intimate about doing that. How many people’s lips did you touch like that? Not too many. Even as many lovers as he’d enjoyed, as many subs as he’d trained and played with, this wasn’t something he usually did.
When Barclay kept looking at him, seeming mesmerized, Rec leaned slowly in, giving the guy plenty of time to turn away and duck out of the kiss.
Barclay didn’t move away or duck; he just opened and leaned in. Their lips met first, the kiss soft and warm and sexy. Then, taking advantage of Barclay’s open mouth, Rec swept his tongue in and tasted.
How lovely. He pushed in, tongue-fucking Barclay’s lips. He stared into Barclay’s eyes as they kissed, letting his need show. He wanted Barclay and wasn’t afraid to have them both know it.
Barclay blushed dark, cheeks burning for him. He took a second kiss, then a third, his
hands sliding slowly along Barclay’s legs. He was covering the same territory as he had during the massage, but he wasn’t touching Barclay like it was a massage anymore. Now he was deliberately seeking to arouse.
He was fairly sure Barclay wasn’t thinking about massage anymore either—not now. He let his fingers drift upward, running them along Barclay’s hips, then moving to barely touch the man’s balls through his sweats.
Barclay’s soft little gasp felt damn good against his lips. Humming, Rec slid his tongue along Barclay’s, stealing another taste, then another.
His own moans were heartfelt, the need rushing through his veins, and when Barclay stroked his inner thigh, his legs began to shake.
“Barclay.” He didn’t know what he meant by that—he’d just needed to say the name. It felt right with Barclay’s taste on his lips.
“Yeah. Yeah, you feel damn good,” Barclay murmured.
“So do you.” He pushed Barclay’s T-shirt up, searching for skin. He found it, dragging along Barclay’s abs. His core was still fairly strong and so pretty.
“Mmm. Yeah.” It seemed that Barclay had decided to accept this, to go for it, and it was hot as hell.
Rec took another kiss, exploring the muscles that he could tell were going to be an amazing six-pack soon enough. He loved the feeling of the soft skin beneath his fingertips.
Barclay hummed for him, tongue sliding against his, sweet and wet. Groaning, he pushed higher, searching out Barclay’s nipples. Were they sensitive? Not? He couldn’t wait to find out. There were so many things to find out. That was one of the best things about a new lover—the sense of discovery.
One nipple was scarred, one wasn’t, and the comparison was amazing. He wanted to look, but for now he did so by touch, stroking over one, then the other.
They both drew up, but the scarred one was more stiff, more firm. It fascinated his fingers.
“Do they feel different? When I touch them, I mean.” He touched them both again, trying to keep both touches exactly the same.
“Yeah. I had the one pierced. It ripped out. Hurt like a bitch.”
“When you fell?” He went back to it, touching the scar again now that he knew how it had happened. He winced. That would definitely have been painful.
