by Kora Knight
Cracking his neck, he anxiously glanced at the door. “Uh. I dunno. I gotta get up early and—”
“Oh, shut the hell up,” Scott laughed, his big hands clapping onto Tad’s shoulders from behind. “It’s barely ten o’clock. Don’t besuch a pussy.” Firmly, he maneuvered Tad toward the showers.
“Fuck you,” Tad chuckled, digging in his heels. “I’m not a pussy. I just—I don’t—I’m not—”
“I just—I don’t—I’m not—” Scott mimicked. “Stop over thinking shit, man. Jesus. I won’t be in the shower with you. And there won’t be any shackles or blindfolds, either. Just me doing my thing as you lie there and enjoy it.”
Tad grimaced. That comment could be interpreted too many ways. Would things stay platonic with Scott’s hands all over him? Would Tad like his hands all over him? Hell, what if he ended up sporting wood?
Scott let go at the door and clapped Tad on the back. “So, how about it? You on my table in ten?”
Tad fought back a wince and rubbed his neck. “Uh…”
Scott grinned and pointed to another door down the way. “You’ll be going in there. You’ve had a professional massage before, yeah?”
“Uh…”
Scott chuckled. “You. In a towel. Lying on your stomach. I’ll meet you inside in a few.” He pivoted around and headed back to the video equipment.
Mouth hanging open, Tad watched him go. How the fuck had Scott just done that? Talked him into something he’d never normally have agreed to. Goddamn it. He’d been home free. Tad scowled. That guy had some serious coaxing skills.
Lips pursed, he shoved through the door. He wasn’t a pussy, and for some screwed up reason, he didn’t want Scott to think he was, either. He shook his head at that. He needed to get a grip. It was just a stupid massage. So, why was he being so skittish? Scott had already proved himself capable of behaving professionally. And it wasn’t like Tad would be strapped down. He could leave whenever he wanted.
Ugh. Who was he kidding. He knew exactly why he was nervous; he was afraid things would end up all hot and bothered between them. In that room. Alone. With Scott’s hands all over him in their crazy magic mode. Tad sighed, shucked off his clothes and stepped into the shower. In a roundabout way, he supposed it’d be the most telling test of all. If things managed to stay kosher for the duration of Scott’s massage, Tad would know without a doubt that everything was tight. Which was a good thing in the end, right? To know for sure?
Resolved, he washed off, wrapped a towel around his hips, and headed for the exit. Out one door and into another, he scanned the newest enclosure. About the same size as the room with ‘the wall,’ this one had a similar scheme. Warm beige, subtle trim, eclectic little accent pieces. But instead of a sofa, sleek cabinets sat in peaceful wait. And where the other room’s focal point was that big-ass monstrosity, this one’s was a large padded table.
Low-volume Maroon 5 filled the air, the singer’s smooth tenor a familiar comfort. He shook his head and smiled. Scott had great taste in music. In fact, it was nearly identical to Tad’s. Go figure. Another thing they had in common.
Inhaling deep, he approached the table and gave it a quick perusal. It was nice. Really nice. With brown, supple leather, it probably cost a fortune. Hell, it even had that cut-out hole for the face. He reached out and felt the tan linen sheet draped along its length. Damn, it was soft. Like, super silky soft. Egyptian cotton or some shit.
Both hands came down and splayed atop it as he moved to climb aboard. Despite the foot stool, it was still kind of awkward, especially with his towel trying to fall. It loosened completely then nearly slid off. Tad cursed under his breath and grabbed it. All he needed was Scott to walk in with his ass hiked up and on display. The guy had seen enough of that to last him a fucking lifetime.
Tad flushed at the memory. God, he’d been so exposed that night, bent over that stupid wall. Watching it all on video only hammered home how much. Groaning, he settled down onto his stomach. At least all his private parts would be under wraps this time.
He closed his eyes and forced his nerves to calm, resting his face in the table’s little cutout. Concentrating on the music, his muscles eased… but tensed right back up again when Scott walked in.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. Max snagged me and wouldn’t stop talking.”
“No worries.” It wasn’t like Tad had been laying there long.
Scott padded over to the corner of the room. A drawer opened, then closed. And then another did the same. The sound of a lighter flicking to flame, then an aromatic whiff of earthy spice. Incense sticks? Whatever it was, it smelled incredible. Tad inhaled deep as he stared at the floor.
A set of bare feet moved into his line of sight. Hairless and soft-looking with perfectly trimmed toes. Tan and strong, just like Scott. Geez, every freaking part of the guy was good looking.
Tad couldn’t help laughing. “Dude. Your feet are ridiculous. Tell me you don’t get pedicures.”
“Hell yeah, I do,” Scott chuckled. “I take my grooming very seriously. I mean, shit, they even buff my toenails. You can’t beat that kind of attention to detail. And besides… it feels fantastic.”
“Uh huh,” Tad drawled. But he supposed Scott had a point. Presentable feet with a foot massage to boot. It was hard to find fault with that. Tad frowned, suddenly self-conscious of his own feet’s state. Hopefully Scott wouldn’t massage that far down. He better not, considering how ticklish Tad was.
The sound of cabinet doors opening drifted past Tad’s ears. A hot, damp towel settled across his nape. Oh, wow. That felt awesome. Scott did the same with each of Tad’s wrists. Due to their moisture, they had noticeable weight. Maybe it was his imagination, but their heaviness created the oddest sensation of somehow being restrained. Instinctively, Tad’s hands shifted at his sides. Yup, still had total range of movement because, hello, his wrists weren’t bound. God, he was an idiot.
A lid lifted then shut a few feet away. “These,” Scott murmured, “are gonna be hot.” Hard, smooth objects settled down the length of Tad’s spine.
“Whoa. What’re those?” he asked, staring intently at the floor.
“Basalt stones. They’re awesome at absorbing and retaining heat and, in my opinion, make great complements to massage therapy.”
Tad sighed in total agreement. Already he was melting into the table. Why hadn’t he wanted this massage again?
A small cap snapped open somewhere nearby. Tad stiffened, the sound triggering memories of nine days before. Lube, lube, then even more lube. Coating and teasing his sensitive places, allowing easy entry into tightly clenched holes. Tad shifted restlessly. That stuff shouldn’t even be in Scott’s possession right now.
But just as he opened his mouth to object, a soothing fragrance hit his nose. Herbal and light… and definitely not lube. He nearly groaned in relief. A bottle of massage oil. That’s all it’d been. What the hell was wrong with him? Paranoid much?
Scott’s feet padded around to the foot of the table, palms audibly rubbing together. “Alright, big guy. Gonna start down here.” His hands curled around Tad’s ankles.
“Not the feet,” Tad blurted out, instantly feeling like a dork. “I’m just uh… really ticklish.”
“Yeah,” Scott chuckled. “I remember.”
Tad stilled at the comment, but before he could ponder it, strong palms glided up his calves. And just that quick, his attention was diverted, all worries up and leaving on a slow, quiet moan.
Good god, the guy had amazing hands.
Said hands slid up to knead his thighs, just like they had after securing Tad to that wall. In the recesses of his happy haze, Tad wondered if they’d graze his ass again, too. Or just keep heading upward to tease his erog-zones like before. Recollecting the feeling, his cock stiffened more, pressing into his stomach. Damn it. He needed a distraction for both of his heads.
Clearing his throat, he decided to use the opportunity to ask something he’d been wanting to know. “So, did those jerk wad jocks ev
er ask you what happened?”
“Of course,” Scott murmured. His fingers gave the under swell of Tad’s ass a swipe.
Tad inhaled sharply. The dude must’ve snuck up under his towel. But before he could do or say a thing, Scott retreated back down to his ankle. Slowly his hands worked back up Tad’s calf, thumbing and pressing and gliding along. Tad exhaled in bliss, but continued to dig.
“So…what did you tell them?”
“The truth.”
Tad grimaced. Great.
Scott’s voice dipped low. “That I flogged you silly, turned you mindless, then made you come harder than shit.”
Tad closed his eyes in relief, but grit his teeth just the same. No question, he was grateful Scott hadn’t divulged more, but damn, the guy’s bluntness was double-sided; embarrassing the fuck out of him while ever turning him on. His dick gave a knowing twitch. Tad winced and cleared his throat. “Oh.”
Scott chuckled, his hands moving to flank Tad’s knee. “Oh, indeed.”
Tad’s eyes narrowed in thought. “I’m actually kind of surprised they hadn’t asked to watch. They seemed pretty dickhead pervy like that.”
“Oh, they asked. Believe me. Hell, they practically begged.”
Tad stilled.
“But I’m not in the business of humiliating people. Unless, of course, that’s their thing.” He chuckled again. “I gotta say, by how twitchy you were, I was surprised you stuck around.”
Tad grunted. “Yeah, well, it was either here or the ER.”
Scott’s hands froze against his leg. “The ER? What the fuck are you talking about?”
Tad scowled at the floor. “What. Your boys didn’t elaborate on the details of the deal?”
“No,” Scott muttered darkly. “I guess they didn’t. But you’re sure as shit going to now. Did they threaten to hurt you?”
“Something like that.”
Scott’s grip tightened. “Those motherfuckers.”
Tad sighed. “Whatever, dude. The alternative didn’t kill me and my limbs are still intact, so…”
“They told me they’d offered you another out-there option, but hell, I thought it was streaking the neighborhood or something.”
A half-hearted laugh breached Tad’s lips. “Yeah, not quite.”
Scott growled. “I’m so going to kick their asses.”
“What,” Tad snorted. “You gonna take all three of them on at once?”
“I could, but I’m more creative than that.”
Tad lifted a brow. “Creative?”
“Yeah. I’m suddenly in need of some sparring partners.”
Tad barked out a laugh. “What are the chances I could get that on tape?”
Scott didn’t see the humor. Instead, he sounded like he was about to puke. “Tad, I—God, I’m so fucking sorry. I swear I’d never have done it had I known they’d—Jesus, no wonder you looked so freaked out. I’d honestly thought it was closet boy jitters.”
Tad blinked, brows scrunching. “Wait, what? Closet boy jitters? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Scott sighed. “They told me you were a closet case, and stupidly I didn’t contest it.”
Tad balked, stomach jacking up into his throat. “Why the fuck would they tell you that?”
“Hell, I dunno. Something about you covertly checking out frat boys while blowing off the chicks.”
Tad stopped breathing. Was that really how he’d come across? Yeah, he’d been hanging with just the dudes, but… “Those girls were really drunk,” he sputtered. “And the guys were all shooting seriously funny shit. And then I was totally cleaning house in poker, and—”
“Tad. It’s cool. Who cares what those assholes said. Besides,” he grit, resuming Tad’s massage, “they’ll be getting theirs soon enough.”
Suddenly Tad didn’t feel so good. Like his heart and guts were going a round, swapping some serious punches. If those douche bags really believed that shit, then did other people, too? What if his friends thought he was in denial or something? Or like those “prison gays” who’d die before admitting how they felt.
Tad groaned. He had to stop speculating or it’d make him sick. He closed his eyes and inhaled slow. “Uh… So your roommate,” he muttered, changing the subject. “Interesting guy. He was kinda eyeing me weird, though. Does he know about my date with ‘the wall,’ too?”
“Nope.” Warm hands slid up to wrap around Tad’s thigh. “What we did is nobody’s business but ours. Well… and those cocksuckers who I’m gonna maim. But even they only got the need-to-know stuff.” His fingers sank deep and gave a squeeze. “You’re good, Tad. I wouldn’t do you like that.”
Tad stared at the floor. “Thanks.”
“Yup. But that being said, now that my roommate does know you exist?” He coughed out a laugh. “You’re gonna have to learn how to duck and run.”
Tad frowned, not liking the sound of that. “What? Why?”
“Trust me,” Scott chuckled, and Tad had the distinct feeling the guy was shaking his head. “You don’t want to know. Just keep Max at an arm’s length and you’ll be good.”
Tad really didn’t like the sound of that.
Scott’s fingertips made another swipe against the base of his ass. Instantly distracted, Tad sucked in a breath as head-to-toe goose bumps erupted. Great. Scott couldn’t know that Tad’s heart had just kicked into racing. Those goose bumps, however, were a dead fucking giveaway. But just like last time, Scott’s hands were back to Tad’s feet before Tad could say a word. His left ankle this time, to be exact.
It was Scott who asked the next set of questions. “So, you’re going to school. What’re you majoring in?”
Ah. Safe ground. And a genuine show of interest. For some strange reason, that lit up Tad’s insides.
“Um…I’m uh… going for my masters in journalism.”
“Nice. You putting yourself through school? With your day job and shit?”
Tad nodded against the padding. “Yeah. Parents aren’t doing that great financially, so...”
Scott’s strong grip methodically made its way back up. “Good for you, doing this on your own. I’m impressed.”
Tad laughed despite himself. “Impressed?”
“Well, yeah. A lot of kids your age would balk at a tab like that, not looking at the bigger picture. You’ve got that ambitious determination very few have. And unlike most, you’re not waiting for handouts. That’s attractive as fuck in my book.”
It was a nice compliment, but Tad was still hung up on one word in particular. “Kids? I’m no kid, dude. I can’t be much younger than you.”
“Mm.” Scott kept up his massage, leaving it at that.
“What, you’re not gonna tell me how old you are?”
Strong hands made their ascent to Tad’s thigh, ten fingers repeating their wicked little antics. Again and again, they grazed his ass. But the contact was always sporadic, making them impossible to predict. Scott’s thumbs brushed a particularly sensitive spot. Tad jerked, fighting back a hiss. His dick liked the close contact way too much. “Scott, um… you’re—”
“Twenty nine,” came the guy’s answer. Delayed, but just in time to kill Tad’s train of thought. Abruptly Scott’s hands let go, removing the half dozen heated rocks before to re-converging at the base of Tad’s back. Again, they got busy working their magic.
“Twenty nine,” Tad moaned as Scott’s thumbs slid a firm path up his spine. “Five year difference. Big deal. Hardly enough to differentiate me as a kid.” He twitched when Scott hit that sweet spot between his shoulder blades. Fortunately, the guy kept going.
“A person can grow up a lot in five years.” Scott’s voice sounded notably softer. Somber even. His thumbs dragged back down the exact route they came. “So where do you work?”
Tad’s lips parted on another moan. “Mailroom. At the Morning Star.”
“Seriously?” Scott chuckled, his tone instantly lifting. “You work at the local paper? That’s kinda cool.” At the sma
ll of Tad’s back, his thumbs repeated a much slower climb, grinding circles into each muscle along the way.
Tad grunted and groaned. “Not that cool. I’m basically just a glorified gofer… with a shit ton of paper cuts.”
Scott laughed. “Well, for what it’s worth, you’re the best looking gofer I’ve ever seen.”
Tad’s smile turned all lopsided as he closed his eyes. “Uh huh.”
Silence stretched between them, but Tad was good with that. Scott’s hands, that incense, and hell, even Maroon 5, were enough to keep a guy happy.
Until, that is, Scott intentionally pressed on a specific spot right between Tad’s shoulder blades.
Tad gasped, fighting not to arch. “Shit. Go easy there, man.”
Scott chuckled. “Nah. You can take it.” He gave him another swirling prod.
Tad grunted, his efforts to keep from bowing sending his ass cranking up instead. “Seriously, dude,” he laughed breathlessly. “That’s too freaking sensitive.”
A barely discernable rumble emanated through the room. Tad’s eyes shot open. Did Scott just growl, or was he hearing things, too? Another merciless grinding set him arching up again. He inhaled sharply, ass hiking back up. Ugh. So fucking embarrassing. And of course, now his dick was a lost cause, too, harder than a damn steel rod.
“Scott—”
“Take it, Tad,” Scott murmured. Again, he teased that bundle of nerves, exactly in just the right spot. Tad nearly shot off the table.
“Dude!” he barked in exasperation.
Scott paused to hold him secure, then leaned in nice and close. “You’re stronger than this,” he purred, his warm breath brushing Tad’s ear. “I’ve seen what you can endure. And it’s a hell of a lot more than thumbs between your blades.”
God, his voice was like a velvet tongue, licking along Tad’s spine. His body shivered of its own volition. Which was so not a good sign. It meant Scott was tripping some serious wires. Though that should’ve been obvious when Tad’s cock started twitching.
“That spot,” he groused, shifting against the table. “It’s just so fucking sensitive.”
Scott chuckled, straightening back up. “You think I don’t remember?”
