Chapter 8 The one with the massage
Dylan’s footsteps echoed in the hallway, the dimly lit corridor offering little comfort as he made his way to the apartment. His entire body ached, every muscle crying out for a break.
Being an illustrator had always been his dream, but that industry was harsh.
So when he had to choose a path to follow, he went with his second option.
A geek would always be a geek, even if he didn’t look like the prototype of one.
But then, a friend opened a tattoo parlor, and he was offered the opportunity to learn about the beauty of skin art.
After five years of tattooing, he’d gotten pretty decent at it.
Some days he wished he had time to laze around at home, but he loved it enough to sacrifice that luxury.
The buzzing of the machines, the smell of antiseptic clinging to his clothes.
.. plus, it allowed him to scratch that artistic itch.
However, no matter how you look at it, spending ten hours hunched over couldn’t be good. Not for his eyes nor his back.
With a sigh, he pushed the door open and entered his apartment.
The only thing on his mind was collapsing onto the sofa until sleep took him.
But then, the comforting aroma of something delicious wafted through the air.
His heart skipped a beat—or maybe two—as he spotted Jared busily setting the dining table for the two of them.
“Hey there,” Jared greeted, offering a warm smile.
Dylan blinked in surprise. This man had always been considerate, but this act touched him deeply. Especially since he thought he’d come home to an empty space.
“What are you doing here?” Dylan asked, still bewildered.
“Hello to you too.”
“Weren’t you out with some friends?” Dylan dropped his bag beside the couch and approached. “I thought I wouldn’t see you till tomorrow afternoon.”
Some of Jared’s friends had come from his hometown, and from what they’d talked about throughout the week, it didn’t seem like he’d be stopping at home at all.
“Nah. We’re getting old. They were dead tired after sightseeing, so we decided to call it a day. We’ll be meeting again for lunch tomorrow, though.”
“Nice. But also, you didn’t need to do all this.” Dylan gestured to the copious amounts of food as he took a seat at the table.
Jared sat too. “Shut up and just say thank you.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” A genuine grin spread across his face.
“Everything looks great. You’ve done nothing but cook all day or what?”
“Not really. I mean, I came home three hours ago.” Jared lifted a shoulder. “But I had some free time after taking a bath, and you’ve been working the entire day. So I thought you could use a little break.”
“I really appreciate it.” Dylan almost melted when he tasted the roasted chicken—juicy and crispy all at once. “This is so good,” he moaned.
“Glad you like it,” Jared said. “Rough day at the shop?”
“Can you tell?” Dylan sighed. Exhaustion was clear on his face. He’d seen it earlier, under the yellowish light of the lift. “It was crazy. I just wanna finish this and crash till tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Jared chuckled, empathizing with him.
As they ate, Dylan couldn’t hold the smile back. Even if they were just roomies who had casual sex—almost every day, several times a day—everything was so easy between them. It just felt natural. Warm. Comfortable. Familiar.
They talked about everything and nothing, momentarily pushing away the stress of their daily lives. Dylan loved it; coming back to a house that wasn’t empty anymore. Thanks to Jared, he had a home now.
As dinner wound down, Jared leaned back in his chair and looked at Dylan with a playful grin. “How about a massage to help you relax?”
Dylan hesitated. He wanted to accept, to feel Jared’s hands soothing his aching muscles, but feared the confusion rattling his guts lately.
For the past two weeks, since they’d started hooking up, his mind had been a tangled web of emotions and desires, all centered on the man sitting across from him.
Did he like Jared? Yes, very much. But he was in his twenties, and Dylan was running straight towards forty.
Hell, Jared hadn’t even learned to read when Dylan started jerking off.
He was barely starting his pubescent era when Dylan had already finished university.
Whenever he thought about it this way, something inside of him stirred.
It was creepy. Besides, he knew himself, and was aware that those feelings wouldn’t develop much further.
That shit never happened. Not to him, anyway.
Dylan chuckled with discomfort. “You’re not my boyfriend, Jared. You don’t need to do all this for me.”
Jared rolled his eyes, seemingly unfazed as he walked to the kitchen and placed the dishes in the sink. “Who said anything about dating? I just wanted to play a little.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
Fuck, this man.
“I’m not sure if I’ll be able to keep my eyes open through a massage. I’m too tired.”
“That’s fine. If you don’t, you’ll just pay me back in the morning.”
“Ugh,” Dylan protested, loving the atmospheric shift. “Fine,” he said like this was torture—it was not.
“That’s my man,” Jared whispered against his lips before biting him. “Now go take a shower while I finish cleaning up, and I’ll meet you in your bedroom in a bit.”
Once fresh and renewed, feeling like maybe he could pull off one round, Dylan went from his bathroom to the bedroom, completely naked. Jared was already there with everything settled—the music, the oil, and even a towel spread over the duvet.
“Took you a while,” Jared said, ogling him up and down. “Happy that you’re happy to see me too.” He smirked.
Jared was dressed in a pair of tartan pajama pants and an oversized tee, but Dylan’s dick still reacted to the sight of him and the memories of the previous night.
Because, yeah, his body had a mind of its own when it came to this guy, who, by the way, had the best hip roll, and always, fucking always, hit all the right places.
“Shut up.” Dylan tapped his forehead with two fingers as he approached. “You give me a massage and then we’ll see if I suck you.”
“You will suck me.”
Laying on his stomach, Dylan’s heart raced when Jared straddled him. As his friend’s hands started working on his sore muscles, he let out a content sigh. It was as if he had memorized every knot and pleasurable spot on his body.
“I have to admit,” Dylan mumbled, his voice relaxed and soft, “this feels nice.”
“Good.”
The room filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the sounds of Dylan’s heavy breaths and the soft music playing in the background.
Minutes passed, and the initial uneasiness melted into a state of pure bliss. Dylan closed his eyes, allowing the soothing sensations to wash over him. However, his brain refused to shut down.
No matter how hard he tried to ignore reality, a massage was probably one of the most intimate acts he could think of. The connection they were sharing, with their skin warming up to each other and their breathing synchronizing... nothing matched the intensity squeezing his heart right now.
Dylan’s conflict deepened as the turmoil swirled in his mind.
He wanted to reach out, to touch Jared and make him feel an ounce of the pleasure he was feeling.
Making him feel cared for, safe, and understood made Dylan’s chest puff, like he was some sort of superhero. But he didn’t want to give false hope.
And here I thought I was gonna fall asleep the moment he put his hands on me.
“You good?” Jared asked.
“Mm-hmm…” Dylan replied, wondering if the disarray in his mind was easy to read through his body.
“You’re kinda tense.”
“It’s hard to relax when your dick is taunting my ass.” Dylan accompanied his bluntness with a soft wiggle of his hips. There was no way he was going to let Jared peek at all the fears and doubts swimming in his head.
“Sorry.” Jared chuckled. “It’s hard to keep it at bay when you’re so soft and glossy... and fucking naked,” he rasped, thumbs pressing and parting Dylan’s asscheeks. “Fuck. I think I’m done with the relaxing massage.”
The mattress dipped beneath Jared’s weight when he scooted up and propped on his palms. Painfully slow, he kissed his way up Dylan’s neck... his ear... his jaw, putting his self-control to the test.
Dylan was struggling with the contradictory ball of emotions squeezing his heart. But whenever he was around Jared, common sense fled, leaving him with nothing but primal desire.
Reaching a hand up, Dylan fisted a handful of Jared’s hair and pulled that naughty mouth to his. A dire need detonated within him as the kiss escalated from slow and sensual to brutally messy. Tongues wrestled and sparks flew, igniting each of the fibers in his body.
“Strip,” he demanded.
“Your wish is my command,” Jared husked.
The rustle of clothes inundated the room while music continued playing, and soon they were both completely naked.
“This is what you want?” Jared teased, pressing his hard cock between Dylan’s asscheeks.
“Yes.” He bit his bottom lip, relishing the sensation of that throbbing member against him.
“You’re so fucking perfect, you know that?” Jared said in breathless pants as he continued grinding.
Dylan usually didn’t care about praise or recognition, but when those words escaped Jared’s lips, there was no stopping the warmth spreading in his chest. It dug deep into his lungs, making his rib cage suddenly feel too small to breathe.
“Your face on my ass, now.”
Jared immediately changed his position, replacing his thick cock with his thumb. “Can you get on all fours?”
Of course, Dylan complied. Jared’s pleasure kink transformed him into a helpless mass of promiscuity.
The way he was always eager to do anything to please Dylan, to hear him scream, was the biggest turn-on.
Not to mention how good he was at sex. Not just blow jobs and quickies in the bathroom, but actual, real, mind-shattering, toe-curling sex.