Kaden
My neck’s been killing me all week. And not just my neck—my shoulders are stiff, my back’s worse, and my head’s pounding. I had to cancel on a customer today because I couldn’t figure out how to sit without wanting to cry from exhaustion.
I made an appointment at a masseuse the other day, and then I called back the next day and cancelled.
I hate this.
“You wanna hang tonight?”
I peek at Seth under my arm thrown over my face. I’m lying flat out on my tattoo chair. Nothing is comfortable, but I lowered it and now I can’t move.
“Grab some food and game?” he adds, wiping down his station.
“I don’t know, man.”
He throws the used paper in the bin, removing his gloves and leans in. He casts a glance at Iggy in the back and swallows.
“Are we good?” he asks, voice low.
I frown, and it hurts my head. “What do you mean?”
He takes a breath, casting a glance at Iggy again, scratching his eyebrow. “We haven’t hung out all week, and—” He scoots his chair closer, his eyes darting between mine. “Did I do something?”
No, Seth, this is just me being an asshole because I can’t stop thinking about what happened the last time we hung out, and I don’t dare even let you rub my back, in case I pop a boner at work. So, I’ve been slowly killing myself with pain killers and jerk off sessions.
“No,” I say as I shake my head gently. “No, dude. For real, I’m just having a shitty week. My back is killing me and—” I sigh, putting my arm back over my face. “I made an appointment.”
“At a masseuse?”
“Yeah.”
“Really?” he asks, sounding hopeful.
“I cancelled.”
He’s quiet for a moment.
“Maybe you should talk to someone?” he mumbles.
I pull my arm back. “What?”
“I mean… Maybe it’s stress,” he shrugs one shoulder.
“But I’m not stressed.” I frown. And maybe that’s a little lie. But I can’t pinpoint why I’d be stressed so, until I figure it out, I’ve decided not to stress about it. Look at me, playing with words.
I’m utterly fucked.
“Fuck it! Let’s hang out tonight.”
“Yeah?” He shoots me a lopsided grin.
“If you can get me out of this fucking chair, yeah.”
I caved. I’m face down on the sectional of Seth’s couch, with a heating blanket covering my back and neck. I don’t even know why anyone living in California would own a heating blanket, but here I am, grateful as fuck that he does.
“Okay,” he says, coming back from the bedroom. “I’ve got this lube—”
“What?” I pull my head up, staring at him.
“Relax, it’s like a heating oil. Great for massages. And stuff,” he adds under his breath.
I let my face fall down again as he climbs on top of me, planting himself on my thighs.
“This okay?”
“Yeah,” I mumble.
He pulls the blanket down and the cold air hitting my skin makes me shiver. The cap snaps as he opens the bottle, and he rubs his hands together for a second before he places them on my back. My skin prickles immediately, the hair on my neck stand on end, and I sigh.
With every stroke he makes, I feel my body relax, and I fall deeper into the cushions.
I’m somewhere between sleep and Nirvana when he mumbles, “You flinched.”
“Hm?”
“The other day, when I touched you at work, you flinched.”
I turn my head slightly. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
I snort. “’Cause my body’s all on edge and I don’t trust it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, man. Sully says I’m touch deprived and whenever you put your hands on me lately, I pop a boner.”
He chuckles. “Sorry.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you are,” I drawl, smiling down in the cushion.
“So, no more back rubs at work, then?”
“Not until my dick starts behaving, no.”
He laughs, rising up on his knees with his hands on my lower back, and presses down, using his whole weight until I wheeze. There’s a small crack somewhere in my back, and the tension loosens.
“Fuuck,” I groan. “Do that again.”
He lifts up, and presses down even harder and I moan.
“Remember when I told you I’m gay?” he says, a little breathless.
“Yeah?”
“Good. Maybe keep that in mind.”
I chuckle. “This is pretty fucked up, right?”
He snorts. “I’m rubbing lube all over your body while you’re moaning like a porn star. Yeah, I’d say it’s pretty fucked up.”
He keeps massaging me until my body starts to feel like Jello. I haven’t been this relaxed in weeks, and I smell like—
“Why do I smell like strawberry?”
“It’s edible,” Seth says.
“What?”
“The lube. It’s edible.”
And I don’t want to think about why he’s got edible lube, or what he’s done with it, because my body’s relaxed enough that my dick’s currently asleep but one wrong thought and I may wake the fucking beast.
“So, how do you feel about Kit lifting the restrictions?” he asks.
Kit announced the other day that we’ll be back to normal starting next week.
That means there’ll be no restrictions on how many customers, and/or friends of said customers are allowed in the studio.
And yeah, my pulse spiked when he told me, but I can’t keep holding the others back.
We’re barely scraping by, and I’d really like to afford to buy my old car back.
I shrug as best as I can. “It is what it is.”
“You’re okay with it?”
“Yeah,” I mumble, not entirely truthfully.
“It’ll be fine,” he says. “You can still wear a mask, and most people should be vaccinated by now, yeah?”
And it could be the massage, but most likely, it’s Seth’s voice, and his reassurance that makes me feel just a little bit better about the whole thing.
If he says it’ll be fine, I trust that it will be.
Probably.