33. Scott #2
With an exaggerated pout, I stand and climb out of the tub. Naz grabs us towels, but doesn’t use them to dry us off, instead laying them on the ground in front of the fireplace.
“Lay down,” he orders, stepping away to dig through a basket of items I’m assuming he had delivered.
“Sunny side up or down?”
He laughs. “Uh, down, I guess.”
“Not sure I can lie on this thing,” I say, looking down at my erection.
A pillow hits me in the face, then another one.
“Oh, so these things do have a use?”
“I’m not sure it’s the intended use, but they’ll do. Now lie down.”
Shooting him curious looks over my shoulder, I do as he says, using a pillow to pad my groin, and another under my head. I flinch when something wet splashes between my shoulder blades, then down my spine, over my ass, down one leg, and up the other.
“What is that?” I ask. “It smells good.”
“Coconut oil and shea butter.”
Starting at my feet, Naz massages up each of my legs, expertly digging his thumbs and the heels of his hands into every muscle and tendon. By the time he makes it to the backs of my thighs, his fingers dipping between my legs to brush against my balls, I’m starting to rock into the pillow.
I’m not sure I’m going to make it through this when he starts massaging my ass.
How can something feel so good and so torturous at the same time?
Every time his thumbs or fingers rub through my crease, I think I might say fuck the rest of the massage and maul him instead.
But every time I wiggle too much, he smacks me, and that’s fun too.
My muscles melt under his touch, and eventually I forget to anticipate anything but the relaxing feel of his hands on me. It’s still erotic as all get-out, I’m still achingly hard, and I still want him inside me, but it becomes less urgent.
Until he decides I’m not horny enough and straddles me while he works his hands slowly up and down my spine. His cock bounces against the small of my back, and when he moves down to work my lower back muscles, it notches itself right between my oiled-up cheeks.
I moan into the pillow, biting down on it to keep from screaming Just fuck me already! I don’t want to ruin his sweet gesture, but this is driving me insane.
And he knows it. Of course he does.
My ass cheeks clench the next time his cock nestles perfectly between them. Naz’s hands move to my glutes, massaging them in circular motions, pushing my cheeks together. One slow thrust is all it takes.
I unclench my jaw from the pillow and whimper. “Please. You’re killing me.”
“Like this?” he asks, pulling back and thrusting again.
“Mmph. Yes.”
A little more massage oil trickles down the cleft of my ass, and then he’s back, heavy, oiled, sliding through my cheeks and over my hole. My back arches, trying to push back and get even more friction.
“Put it in me,” I beg, my voice choked with need. “Don’t stretch me first, just go slowly. I want you inside me, please.”
There’s a moment of hesitation, then I feel the heavy pressure of his crown pressing against my hole.
“You have to tell me if it hurts. Promise me.”
“I promise, just do it, please.”
For a minute it’s just his tip pressing firmly against my opening, rubbing over it until the muscle relaxes enough for him to push inside.
Slowly, he gives me just the tip, holding still before backing out slightly and moving a bit deeper.
The oil, the absolute jelly that is all my muscles, and low, deep breaths help ease his way, inch by slow inch, until finally he’s seated all the way inside.
Naz drapes himself over my back, kissing the back of my neck, my jaw, my shoulder.
When I’ve had enough time to adjust, I clench and release a few times, making him groan.
Naz’s body slides against mine as he slowly thrusts.
Just like the massage, he doesn’t seem in any hurry, just moves inside me with languid, purposeful strokes.
“God, you feel so good,” I moan, gripping the pillow and lifting my chest from the floor, arching my back. My hips rock into the pillow, the friction stoking the fire in my belly.
“Don’t come,” Naz whispers against the shell of my ear. A rash of goosebumps breaks out down my spine. “I haven’t massaged your front yet.”
“Fuck, baby, you can’t say shit like that.”
Before I lose my grip, Naz gently pulls out of me. I want to cry at the emptiness and the orgasm that was taken from me, but he gently rolls me on my back. At least now I can watch him.
Naz drizzles more of the oil all over the front of my body, and this time, he starts at the top.
First my shoulders and my neck, my biceps and down my forearms. My hands are surprisingly one of my favorite parts.
I had no idea how good a hand massage could feel.
He continues down my chest, once again taking his time to work each muscle gently and firmly, until I’m nothing but putty as he works his way down my body.
When he gets to my legs, he changes tactics and starts from the bottom again, working his way up my thighs. He pauses on my hips to get more oil and surprises me when he hands me the bottle instead.
“Work me open while I finish the rest,” he says, and I think my cock spurts a little precum when he straddles me again, this time backwards.
While Naz’s magic hands work the stiffness out of my hips and into my cock, I massage his hole with the sweet-smelling oil, leaning forward to lick to see if it tastes as good as it smells. It doesn’t really taste like much. Naz tastes better.
By the time Naz has worked every muscle in my body except one, he’s rocking back on my fingers, ready for more.
It’s when he’s sinking down my cock, his eyes locked hard on mine, that I realize how different this is. Not because of the location or the massage, but because of how slowly and methodically Naz has touched me. Naz isn’t fucking me.
I think we’re making love.
And that’s different. It always feels good—sex with Naz can’t be bad. Every time I think it’s better than the last.
But this time… This time.
Holy fuck, I feel it in my bones. In every muscle he’s drained the tension from. In my lungs and in my veins, where my blood feels thicker and like it’s pumping faster. Every cell of my body is alive, but instead of my dick, it’s all concentrated on the part of me he’s looking at.
With a shaky breath, I push myself up to sitting so I can kiss him, arms wrapped around his waist.
Pulling one hand back, I grip the back of Naz’s thigh, feeling it flex as he raises and lowers himself.
God, he’s fucking perfect.
“Tell me you’re mine,” I murmur against his throat.
“I’m yours.”
“Again.”
“I’m yours, Scott. Yours in every way. Yours to use as you please.”
My mouth finds his again, drinking down every delicious sound he makes. I can tell he’s getting close by the pitch of his voice and the way his hips move the slightest bit faster.
Lifting him off me, I lie him down and lower myself on top. Naz hikes one leg high on my slippery waist, and I slide inside him again, looking into his eyes.
“I just want to love you,” I say.
Naz surges up to kiss me, holding me tight against his body as I move inside him. Then he says the words I thought I’d never hear. Words I didn’t think I needed, but the moment he says them, it’s like a bright, hot light bursts inside me.
“I just want to love you back.”