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Patrick walks into the massage parlor with a sore shoulder, an aching back, and a pinched nerve by the bottom of his spine that feels like it’ll cause him to start limping any day now. He’d put off getting it addressed for too long, and now even his physiotherapist thinks there’s no hope for recovery.
He lets his laptop bag fall to one of the chairs in the waiting room. He groans under his breath in relief, having stood with it hung on his shoulder for the better part of twenty minutes on the subway ride over. He leaves it there for now, walking up to the receptionist to check in.
It’s 9:08pm, so he knows the exact reason her eyes roll at him when he announces his name. She’d made it very clear over the phone when he called to book his appointment that if he’s ten minutes late, they have the right to cancel his appointment without a refund. Patrick’s not the type to brush off a warning like that. He’s really not. On any other day he’d feel guilty, but it’s past nine on a thursday evening and he’s just had what was probably the longest week of his life. He really can’t be bothered to say anything other than, “I’m here for my appointment,” and “Thanks.”
He slumps into the chair next to his bag as he waits for her to notify the masseur of his arrival. His head falls back, neck finally giving up on giving it any support. He’s definitely waited far too long to get here. It’s just been a long fucking semester and anything that sounded remotely like self care was brushed off by his ever anxious brain.
It’s a bad habit. He’s aware of that. Still, it’s a bad habit that he’s having trouble breaking.
The minute his eyes are starting to shut closed, he hears his name.
“Patrick?”
“Yep!” He stands up slowly and turns to grab his bag. Muscle memory kicks in and swings it over the same shoulder again. He moans in pain, regretting it immediately and switching it to the other side.
“Ouch, that does not look too comfortable.”
Patrick looks up at the masseur guiding him through the halls and into a private room. “I’m sorry?”
“Your satchel. It’s not the most ergonomic method to be lugging items around. If I were your doctor, I’d prescribe you a backpack of some sort that provides equal stability across your shoulders.”
Unhappy with the unsolicited advice, Patrick frowns. This bag was given to him as a gift from his parents years ago in honour of getting accepted to his current master’s program. He’s not going to get rid of it just because some guy told him it was not ergonomic. “I’m good, thanks.”
The masseur does a little head tilt as he skims the room with his eyes. He looks back at Patrick with an expression that somehow portrays exactly what he’s thinking. You’re at a massage parlor, so there’s at least some truth to my suggestion.
But he doesn’t say anything out loud. Before Patrick can say anything else, the man dives into what sounds like a practiced speech.
“I’m David, I’ll be your masseur for the evening. This hour is all about your comfort and satisfaction, so if at any point you feel uncomfortable for any reason please use the words pause, stop, or red. I’ll also be looking out for physical cues, if you don’t feel comfortable with the verbal ones. Raise your hand in the air in a fist like this, and I’ll stop immediately to discuss and go from there. Sounds good?”
Patrick listens and nods, eyes wide open. He’s trying to follow David’s instructions word for word, not wanting to mess up his first experience getting a professional massage. If he’s paying for this, he might as well get all his money’s worth. “Ye-” his voice comes out squeaky, he clears his throat. “Yes.”
“Good, now, this will be our setup,” he gestures to the plush looking table in the center of the room. “Remove all your clothes and lay flat. You may choose whether we start on your back or front side. Again, we want you to be as comfortable as possible.”
He nods again as he watches David approach the table and pick up a neatly folded towel.
“Once you’ve laid down, place the towel on top of you so that it covers you from waist to knees,” he unfolds it and lays it along the center of the table, demonstrating where exactly the towel should end up in relation to another folded towel where his head is meant to rest.
Patrick’s heart starts to thrum noticeably in his ear. The setup in front of him suddenly reminds him how real this is going to be. After months of pain and restless sleep, his body is finally going to get the reset it’s been screaming for.
“Any questions before I leave you to get situated?” David asks, turning to give Patrick his undivided attention. His hands clasp each other in front of his torso in a position most customer service workers learn to hold.
“No, I think I got everything.”
“Great, I’ll be back in five minutes.”
Once the door is shut behind David, Patrick releases a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in. There’s an empty chair and a side table by the wall, Patrick dumps his bag on the table as he collapses on the chair to take off his shoes. His heart hasn’t stopped beating irregularly, but his breathing is at least not as shaky as it was running into the building in an attempt to not miss his appointment.
He’s extremely grateful he managed to make it on time because this appointment has been on his calendar for weeks. The stress that would have surely consumed him over missing his appointment would have doubled his very need for the appointment. It was all one big ironic close call.
He sighs, standing up again once he’s shirtless to unbutton and toss away his pants. Naked as the day he was born, he slides under the towel that David laid out and centers himself on the table. His head falls back on the other towel that doubles as his pillow. His back aches a little in this position, the pinch by the bottom of his spine making another appearance. Naturally, he’s a side sleeper. Which is why he has been able to avoid dealing with his issue for so long. He shifts around, trying to find a comfortable position.
The table itself is oddly comfortable. It’s wider than he expected, too. From movies and shows he expected it to be made of leather and squeak as he moved. But this table was covered in a foam material that was somehow comfier than his mattress at home.
He fidgets around, waiting for the five minutes to be over.
At the last possible second, he changes his mind and flips himself over. He grips the towel so it doesn’t fall to the ground as he moves, maneuvering himself so his ass and the backs of his thighs are fully covered.
The minute his arms are resting up by his head, there’s a knock on the door followed by David walking in. Before he comes over, he steps up to a speaker system that’s set on one of the counters. He hits play on what sounds like a mix of nature sounds and a piano that hum quietly in the background.
Patrick guesses they’ve got some sort of surround speaker system built into the walls.
His eyes follow David as he approaches, noting that the doctor-like lab coat he was wearing earlier is gone. He’s now in a matching set of jet black scrub pants and a short sleeve shirt, revealing relatively hairy arms by Patrick’s eye level.
“Are we ready for your massage?” He asks. Patrick can’t tell if his voice is actually lower in volume and gentler than earlier, or if he’s imagining it because David is standing significantly closer.
“Yea, I uh- I’m ready.”
David places a hand on Patrick’s forearm. For reasons unbeknownst to him, because he really didn’t do it on purpose, his arm flinches away. David retracts his hand and starts speaking even gentler. “That’s okay, we can go as slow as you need,” he smiles.
He nods in return, slightly embarrassed. He’s worried his body won’t let him relax as much as he needs to for this session to be effective.
“So, Patrick, why don’t you tell me a little about why you’re here and what I can help you with today.”
“Well, my body hurts…”
“Mhmm, I gathered as much,” David responds in a light tone. Patrick is worried he’ll start teasing him if he finds out it’s his first time paying for a massage. He’ll try not to give him too much ammunition. “Where does your body hurt, Patrick?”
“My shoulders, my back… mostly my back.”
David touches Patrick’s arm again as he speaks, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. He lifts it in the air and twists gently so that it lays down by his torso instead of up above by his head.
He doesn’t say anything in response, so Patrick assumes he’s waiting for more details. “My back hurts the most overnight, causing me to wake up several times. I haven’t had a deep sleep in months, probably.”
“Months.” David exhales, mild shock in his voice. He walks to the opposite side of the table slowly, away from Patrick’s line of sight. He performs the same action on his other arm, his hand lands palm up by his hip. He feels oddly vulnerable in this position. “That’s an awfully long time to wait before coming in.”
Patrick scoffs, “Well, you’re not exactly giving the cheapest service. I used to be able to go to my physiotherapist under the dime of my insurance. But once my hip injury healed it wasn’t covered anymore.”
“Ah, so Mr. Chen referred us to you,” David places both of his hands on Patrick’s back, moving them down his shoulder blades in a slow, slow, slide.
Patrick nods, slow to respond. His eyes drift shut, mind hyper focused on the feeling of David’s smooth, soft hands running against his skin. “I’m convinced it hasn’t truly healed, but it’s my word against a professional’s, I guess.”
“Well, I can definitely put extra focus on your hips today,” his hands finally land on the hip nearest to him, poking it with the tips of a few fingers as if inspecting for tender spots.
Patrick gets the urge to flinch away again, but not because it’s painful. Mostly because he still hasn’t gotten his body to accept that a man will be touching it for the next forty or so minutes. But he tries as hard as he can to stay still so David is able to continue doing his job.
“Which hip is it?”
“The other one,” Patrick answers. His fingers twitch where they lie uselessly next to him in an attempt to point to the injured hip.
“Well, this one seems slightly stiff as well, I’ll have to tend to both.”
Patrick nods, hearing Davd’s footsteps round the table to examine the mentioned injury.
“I can dim the lights, if you like.”
Patrick’s eyes fly open, “No, sorry, that’s okay. I’m not falling asleep or anything, it’s just been a long week.”
David smiles briefly, but Patrick catches it. “Like I said earlier, this time is your time. We can do whatever is required to keep you comfortable and satisfied.”
Patrick looks away, eyes darting between the fluorescent lights on the ceiling and his pile of clothes thrown on the chair across the room.
“It’s an offer I extend to all my clients, but if you’re more comfortable with the lights on, then we’ll keep the lights on.” David says the statement like that’s that and carries on with his ministrations. He starts prodding at his hip like he did the other one. It feels nice, slightly more sensitive this time, but David is being oh so gentle.
His eyes flutter shut without his permission. Damn it.
If he’s being honest with himself, the light is glaring. Even through his eyelids. It has been a long day sitting in front of a laptop screen and he’d like nothing more than to rest his strained eyes just as he’s resting the rest of his body.
Again, he has to remind himself that he’s paying good money for this hour, so he’ll indulge in whatever add-ons they can provide. Convinced, he mumbles, “Okay, sure. Let’s dim the lights.”
David hums in delight, happy that Patrick is taking him up on his offer. He pats his back twice before heading in the direction of the door. Patrick opens one eye slightly, watching him walk away. He hits a switch that triggers an LED lamp to flicker in a corner. “LED, or regular?”
“Regular please.” Jesus, this is what they spend their money on?
The LED is off again and next to it a warm light is switched on. It casts a warm glow that barely brightens that corner of the room. It’s nice. The minute the overhead white light is off, Patrick’s eyes fall shut without his permission.
On his way back, David rummages for supplies. Patrick takes slow, even breaths. Already, he’s feeling much calmer than he was when the session started. Now, to start letting David heal his ailments without flinching away at every other touch.
“Next, I’ll be applying some natural massage oils to your back to start on the deep massage. It’s room temperature but I noticed you’re running hotter than average so it might still sting at first. I’ll be right there to warm it up, okay?”
Patrick nods, ever so grateful that David is walking him through the steps verbally. Especially now that his eyes are closed. He doesn’t have to watch or predict anything. Just lay still and feel. “Okay, thanks.”
The oil does feel cool to the touch, but it doesn’t sting. In fact, it feels refreshing. It falls in a zigzag pattern across his back, starting to slide and drip in the sloped direction of his back muscles.
Before long, David’s hands are on his skin. It seems as though he had already coated his hands because the minute they touch him, they’re slipping and sliding.
It feels absolutely heavenly.
Patrick bites his lips, feeling a moan build up in the back of his throat. He’s afraid it would be too undignified to let it out, so he inhales a deep yet shaky breath before slowly exhaling. He does this a few times as David’s hands progressively press deeper and deeper into his shoulder blades.
“You’ve got several knots in here, you weren’t kidding.”
Patrick huffs, “No… I wasn’t…”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” David’s voice sounds closer somehow. Before Patrick can decipher his whereabouts, he feels his entire forearm land on his back. While one hand keeps him still, David uses the opposite forearm and wrist combination to dig into the knots he’d found on Patrick’s upper back. It feels fucking delicious and nothing at all like the one amature massage he received in college a few year ago. God this… this might just be worth all the hype.
David’s body continues with his routine, moving from one side of the table to the next. Constantly mirroring whatever he was doing on one side to the other.
“How are we feeling?”
“Mmh,”
Patrick hears a small laugh from David but doesn’t have it in him to be offended. He did this.
“I’ll take that as a good sign,” David’s hands leave him and he all but whines, honestly. His back has never felt so… alive? As if blood is actually circulating where it should for once and activating all the muscles that ached for years.
He gives himself the moment to shift around, rolling his shoulders and testing out the new range of motion. It’s phenomenal, nothing aches. Well, nothing in his upper back anyway.
“I’m approaching your lower back and hip area now. We’ll have to be careful around here because of your injury, of course. I’ll try to verbalize everything I’m doing and rely on your cues to let me know if we need to stop.”
Patrick nods along as he outlines his plan.
“Words?”
“Mm, yea! Sounds good, got it, please don’t stop,” Patrick mumbles into his makeshift pillow.
“I won’t, we still have half an hour,” David answers with a little bit of humour in his tone. “I’m going to lift the top third of the towel now, folding it to get better access.”
Patricks eyes flicker open at that, but doesn’t say anything to stop David. He lifts his head in an attempt to see what David can see of him, but it’s futile due to the angle and low lighting. The single towel covering Patrick’s ass from view is lifted up at the edge gently, if the cold air that reaches his skin is anything to go by. David folds it exactly as he said he would and even pats it down in an affectionate… no, a reassuring gesture.
As the sensation of more oil being drizzled on the exposed skin calms Patrick, he rests his head and shuts his eyes once more. David puts both hands back to work, pinning his thumbs to either side of the lowest point of his lumbar spine and applying pressure.
“Ah,” Patrick breathes out suddenly, feeling the all too familiar pain shoot up his spine.
“Sorry,” David immediately releases his hold. “What happened there?”
“It’s my left side, I get this piercing pain every now and again.”
“Hmm, same side as the bad hip. Does it seem random or when you do a specific movement?”
“Sometimes randomly as I’m walking. But mostly when I lay on my back, it puts pressure on it, I guess.”
David hums, sounding like he’s thinking about his next move. “We’ll have to address that first before we move on. I don’t want to be applying pressure to an existing pain point.”
Patrick’s eyes are open at this point, looking over at his surprisingly attentive and generous masseur.
“Got it. We’ll turn you over and work on your range of motion. I have a suspicion the piercing pain is a delayed symptom from your injury,” David grabs one edge of the towel and looks over at Patrick, “Roll over for me?”
David is staring directly into his eyes, not blinking. For a moment, Patrick thinks he might have misunderstood the instruction. But then he realizes this must be his way of reassuring Patrick that he won’t be seeing anything… underneath the towel as he rolls himself over.
Nevertheless, Patrick feels self conscious as he settles himself onto his back once more. The lifted towel allows the cool air of the room to reach his cock. It rouses awake, having been trapped under him for a while now. He breaks eye contact with David and looks down, watching as he places the towel back down. There’s a bulge- oh god there’s a bulge. His cock is chubbing up, but won’t necessarily pass for a full on erection. Still, it’s very prominent and there and Patrick is extremely conscious of it as David adjusts the towel into a fitted position over it.
It’s fine. He’s feeling self aware but… It’s not like David is a random stranger. He’s a professional doing his job. He probably sees these types of things all the time. Patrick’s semi erection laying against one of his hip bones underneath a towel is hardly scandalous. David probably doesn’t even register it.
Probably.
“I’m going to start massaging your thigh and work my way up,” David explains, with that damn eye contact that Patirck is squirming under. He nods, giving David the confirmation that he’s okay to keep going. He’s left untouched for a moment as David picks up the oil and reapplies a generous amount on his palms.
David begins by wrapping both hands around his left knee. He kneads his fingers into the meat of his thigh. Patrick’s mouth falls open of its own will, a heavy breath escapes. David’s eyes flick down to his lips, watching for any sign of pain or discomfort, Patrick supposes. His fingers slide easily under the hem of the towel.
Suddenly, Patrick wishes he was still faced down on the table. For many reasons.
He blinks rapidly, wishing his eyes would just stay closed. David is giving him these looks and Patrick knows, he just knows, his face is displaying extremely vulnerable expressions as David’s hands creep up. They’re fully underneath the towel now, the hem wrinkling by his wrist as he pushes higher and higher.
Patrick’s not going to kid himself, the sensation is entirely worth the painful moments of vulnerability. David’s fingers spread out and work his quad muscle into mush. They bring comfort, heat and relaxation in areas that have probably been tense for years.
An audible groan slips from Patrick’s lips when David’s fingers curl around his thigh and meet each other at the back. He immediately gasps and bites his lips shut. He doesn’t look to see David’s reaction, staring instead at the towel on his lap.
“Your uh…” David clears his throat, sounding out of breath himself. “Your thighs are huge. Large- I mean they’re large. I have to adjust us to get a better angle, that okay?”
He does look up at this point, glancing at David to see what he means. Except- what? David is already maneuvering himself onto the table next to Patrick. He stands on his knees, facing Patrick, having to shift Patrick’s left leg to make room for the both of them.
“Uhm.. is this…” Patrick stutters, he doesn’t know what to say. He wants to ask what David’s plan is. What the purpose of this… position is. But David is carrying out his plan in silence.
He picks his leg up completely off the table and Patrick’s head shoots up in surprise. His calf lands on David’s shoulder.
“Why- how… what is happening?”
“Shh, you’ll see,” David breathes out, placing his hands back on his thighs. With the new vertical positioning, Patrick notices the towel has fallen back. It lands in a heap on top of his cock, thankfully covering what is now a full on erection whether Patrick likes to admit it or not. His entire leg is exposed - glistening from David's earlier oily ministrations - as it rests against David’s body.
His fingers return to the same massaging motion, except higher up, way higher up. They start kneading into his ass at some point, as David circles around and around. He alternates between running his fingers up his hip, suspiciously close to his hidden cock, and down, down, down, into his hamstrings and against the crease of his ass.
“Oh god,” Patrick breaths out, starting to feel his breath quicken.
“Told you,” David says with a playful smirk on his face, and Patrick can’t take it anymore. It feels so good. Too good. Not the ‘I’m getting a massage to relieve my tense muscles’ good, but the ‘A man has his hands wrapped around my leg and I can’t stop my cock from growing at full mass’ good.
He throws an arm across his eyes and leans his head back. Trying to get as far away from that smirk as possible. It doesn’t work, David’s smile plays across the backs of his eyelids. It feels like he’s still looking directly into his soul as he takes him apart one tense muscle at a time.
David’s hands brave more and more of his skin as the minutes pass by. Where he used to graze his ass briefly, he’s now actively massaging into his cheek. He plays it like play dough, this way and that. Up and down. Side to side. Patrick’s lips are going numb from how hard he’s biting them closed.
As David continues, his body hovers closer and closer. With Patrick’s leg stretched up against his torso, it’s getting a good hamstring stretch out of it too. The stretch is painful but the pain is oh so good. With one movement, as David leans in closer, something snaps in Patrick’s back.
“Oh, fuuuck!” Patrick’s arm flies off his face, eyes opening wide. His jaw drops, but he says nothing, speechless.
A hot release of energy flows through his spine, spreading outward from what seems to be the painful pinch he’d been carrying around for months.
It hurts.
It feels good.
It hurts so fucking good.
“You okay?” Comes from David, but he doesn’t stop his movements. Doesn’t release Patrick’s leg. It’s a good thing too, because he thinks if David moved a single inch, his leg would fall to the table like a dead log. He has absolutely zero control of his muscles at the moment.
“Fuck yes, never stop,” Patrick exhales, breathless as if he’d just ran a sprint.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” David’s smiling expression shifts from vaguely amused to full on excited. “How’s your back?”
“Good, so good. I think you just cracked it.”
“Good. I think you should have your full range of motion now. Are you ready to check?”
Patrick nods, not entirely sure what that entails. But, if David continues with the same skill and ability he’s been applying for the first half of this session, Patrick will not doubt a single thing he suggests.
David reaches up and bends Patrick’s leg gently, placing the sole of his foot on his chest. He sits back on his heels and shifts himself closer, using his own body weight to bend Patrick’s leg closer and closer to his torso.
His hip allows his leg to move with a flexibility he didn’t even know he had.
David’s no longer massaging his muscles, finding it more productive to guide his leg in circles to reactivate motion in his hip.
With the piercing pain in his back gone, and the after effects mostly fading away, Patrick is gaining awareness of their position. David is huddled up close, hugging Patrick’s leg, moving with it. With their movement, Patrick can suddenly feel a breeze against his balls. His balls are fully exposed at this point, and David’s not helping at all.
“I thought you were a masseur, not a chiropractor,” he comments in an attempt to redirect his… whatever magic he’s doing that feels too good.
“Oh, I am,” and to prove it, he aborts the circular movements and places a hand back on his upper thigh. With the other hand, he grabs the bottle of body oil and squirts some directly on Patrick’s skin this time, instead of his palms.
He applies a generous amount. It’s so generous, in fact, it starts drizzling onto his balls and down to his ass.
For a moment, Patrick considers that David is probably not looking where he’s applying the oil. That he’s in a rush, or something. But one quick glance up confirms that David is indeed staring at him. Where his leg is splayed out and balls are laying in the open. He doesn’t look away.
Patrick has the urge to reach down and adjust the towel, cover up, just hide. But he doesn’t act on it fast enough. David tosses the bottle uncaringly and places his hand directly on his balls.
“Oh- okay. That’s not-” Patrick chokes on his own words, flustered.
“What’s wrong? Are you uncomfortable?”
“No I’m-” Patrick is comfortable, too comfortable.
David’s hand squeezes him ever so slightly as he makes eye contact again. He raises a single eyebrow - fuck.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Oh, I think I do.”
“What? No it’s fine I, I got what I came for. My back feels so much better.”
David laughs for a second. “Well, you’re welcome. But, you see, I don’t think you actually want me to stop.”
Patrick’s eyes widen, taken aback by what David is insinuating.
“Either way, it’s just… it’s not part of the massage. It’s not your job, so you don’t have to.”
David’s head tilts to the side, slightly confused. “Actually, it is.”
“What?”
“Well, it’s part of the job. You paid for the premium, didn’t you?”
“Um, yes? I just thought that was for the full hour.”
David nods as his smile deepens to one side. “Yes, the full hour is needed for,” he slides his hand up his balls gently, and under the towel. His fingers curl around the bottom of Patrick’s cock. If blood hadn’t already rushed there, Patrick is sure it would now. He’s at full mass, aching with the satisfaction David promised. “This.”
Slick with oil, curled around Patrick’s shaft, his fingers slide up and down his cock in one smooth swoop.
Patrick sucks in a sudden inhale, the sensation threatening his entire existence if he doesn’t remain in control.
“But uh… but Mr. Chen…?”
David repeats his motion, this time twisting his hand to glide his palm over the head of his cock. It’s so fucking sensitive at this point. He twitches in his hand. “Mr. Chen has been referring clients to my practice for years. I’m certain he knew exactly what I would be offering you when he referred you.”
Patrick stares at him. He’d just been told his injury had been healed when he complained to Mr. Chen about the pain that never goes away. He insisted he needed more sessions but the insurance didn’t budge. Did he refer him to Rose Touch as a gag? Or did he actually believe that sexual favours would alleviate his back pain?
David’s hand is removed from his cock, going back to give his balls some attention. The cool air hits suddenly, but as he hisses, David’s opposite hand grips his cock again.
Okay who the fuck cares. Patrick is in no headspace to be solving mysteries right now. He tosses all thoughts out the window and turns his focus to his senses.
Looking down, he’s blocked from watching David’s godly fingers work his cock with practiced ease by the useless towel crumpled up on his abdomen. He grabs it and throws it across the room without looking.
David laughs, “Mmm, that’s what I thought,” he takes a deep breath and drags his eyes across Patrick’s body. They make eye contact again, Patrick doesn’t blink this time. He notices their breaths are in sync. David’s eyes trail down his neck, his chest. Patrick finds that he spends a lot of time there, taking in how Patrick’s skin flushed pink with excitement.
Once David’s eyes reach down below again, they both stare at his hands. They move delicately yet with purpose. David looks like he has a goal and by the feel of it, Patrick can’t say anything to stop him.
As David’s dominant hand fists Patrick’s cock in what looks like a three dimensional figure eight shape, his other hand gently cradles his balls. With one coordinated swoop of both his hands, Patrick’s body tenses up, nearing the realm of an orgasm pretty quickly.
He would be embarrassed if it weren’t for the fact that David all but groans in encouragement. “Fuck yea, take it.”
His leg, the one previously turned to mush by this expert masseur, starts to droop down and get in the way. Patrick tries his goddamn best to stay in control and keep it up, but there’s just no way.
“David…”
“Yea?”
“I’m… it’s too good, I can’t-”
“Shh, shh, I gotchu.”
Patrick almost yells when a hand temporarily leaves him. He lifts his head off the table, looking for the crime.
David seems to want to maneuver his leg out of the way. He gently bends it around his own torso. It gives him room to shift even closer to Patrick. As if physics even allowed for it, at this proximity.
The next time David places a hand on his cock and Patrick tenses, his leg instinctively curls around David and pulls.
David’s knees are by his hip, Patrick looks down, wondering if he has an erection of his own that he needs attending to.
They’re lined up perfectly, if David were naked they would definitely be grinding up against each other right now. It’s a beautiful sight to behold. Patrick never wants to look away. He reaches up and balls up the towel by his head in order to prop himself up permanently.
The next time Patrick looks up at David, he’s already looking at him.
His heart leaps into his throat.
He wants to say something, diffuse the tension that so suddenly and rapidly built up.
“You’re very…” deep breath needed. “Good at that.”
David’s smirk is ever present. “You look really good like this.”
Fuck.
Okay so talking is also not an option.
His eyes crawl back down to watch David’s fingers as they drive him to the edge.
David is soaked. He and Patrick’s cock are shining with the excess massage oil that David so eagerly applied.
“You ready?” David asks.
Patrick doesn’t respond, too confused.
Before his next inhale, David’s hand starts to speed up. Oh sweet mother of…
David doubles his speed and doesn’t let up. Patrick watches his forearms tense up and his fingers tighten around him. Patrick’s hands flex and don’t rest until they reach for David’s knees.
“You can do it, you can come,” David’s breathing heavy, his words come out soft.
Patrick throws his head back, overwhelmed. The hand on his cock, the fingers on his balls, the voice in his ears…
He peaks one last time, only to find a pair of warm brown eyes staring at him. Staring at him with reciprocated lust.
It’s too fucking much.
He tenses-
“Yea, baby, come for me, I’ve got you-”
His balls constrict, his cock aches, and he just… doesn’t exist for a moment. It feels so good, and it was just a stranger’s hands.
His chest heaves up and down, heart beating incredibly fast.
He doesn’t even know where he is anymore.
The hands around him are still moving, and he’s so sensitive. He can’t anymore. He reaches down and places his own hand against David’s, slick with oil and cum, to stop them from moving.
Patrick forces his eyes open, assessing the situation.
David is- god, why is he just staring at him the entire time?
His jizz is everywhere, and for a moment, Patrick is embarrassed. He eyes the area where they’re connected, spotting the amount of white jizz against David’s black, very black, scrubs.
David notices as well, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “It’s all good. You’re my last client.”
Patrick nods slowly, taking his word for it. He continues to breathe audibly, coming down from a beautiful high that he’s never experienced before.
David shifts away from Patrick. He hops off the table and maneuvers Patrick’s left leg back where it was god knows how many minutes ago.
The feeling of gooey mush that he felt earlier is now extended throughout his entire body. He feels nothing and everything all at once. No pain, no stiffness, no aching joints. Heat, fire and excitement course through him much louder than the pain ever did.
He thinks for a moment about standing up. Surely, it would be impossible.
How will he get home?
Before he continues to freak out about being vertical, David cuts off his thoughts.
“Time for your right leg to get the same level of attention. Don’t you think?”
Patrick balks at him. Apparently, the session is not over.