The door slammed, and Max stumbled into the apartment with a bottle of water in his hand. He was drenched in sweat, his T-shirt sticking to his chest. He threw his backpack in the corner, collapsed on the couch, and groaned loudly.
“Fuck...” He grabbed his thighs. “I'm so sore I can barely walk. I called two physical therapists, but they're both busy.”
I stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. I looked at him, sweaty, heated up after training, stretched out on the couch. A perfect picture.
“If you want, I'll give you a massage,” I said casually. “Better than nothing.”
He raised his head and burst out laughing. “You? Dude, come on, what can you do...”
“I'll relax your muscles, you'll see,” I said calmly, seriously. “I don't have to be a physical therapist to help you.”
He snorted, but stopped laughing when he saw the look on my face. “You're serious...”
“Sure.” I moved closer. “You're lying here moaning, and I have my hands free.”
He rolled his eyes, but his body betrayed his fatigue. He needed this more than he wanted to admit.
“Okay,” he sighed finally. “Just don't break my spine.”
I smiled to myself as I sat down next to him. “Relax. You'll feel like new after this.”
In my mind, this was no longer just a massage. It was my next step. I knew he had agreed because he had no other choice, and I intended to take advantage of that to the fullest.
“Take off your shirt,” I said, as if it were obvious. “I need access to your back.”
Max looked at me suspiciously, but finally took off his sweaty T-shirt and threw it aside. His back was wet, glistening with sweat, his muscles tense as a rope.
“It's best if you lie on your stomach,” I added. “And seriously, the less clothing, the better. Otherwise, it doesn't make sense.”
“You're crazy...” he muttered, but after a moment he took off his shorts and boxers too. He lay down on the couch, naked.
My heart raced. The sight of his bare ass, broad shoulders, and thighs tense from the gym was like a gift I had been waiting for for a long time.
I sat on his hips, warmed my hands, and pressed my fingers into his shoulders. He groaned immediately, the tension in his muscles easing under my pressure.
“Oh, fuck...” he blurted out when I pushed my thumbs deeper. “Harder... yes...”
I smiled to myself. He sounded like he didn't know if he wanted a massage or to be fucked.
“Is that good?” I asked with feigned seriousness, moving my hands lower, down his back, toward his loins.
“Fuck, yeah...” he muttered into the pillow. “Keep going.”
My hands moved lower. First, I massaged his hard buttocks, then moved on to his thighs. I felt him tense up when my thumbs brushed against his crack. Not directly yet, still seemingly by accident, but I knew he could feel it.
I moved my fingers deeper, brushing his balls from below. He flinched, lifted his head slightly, but didn't say a word. Only his breathing quickened.
“You're not protesting, Max,” I thought, pressing him even harder.
My hands circled his thighs, and he lay motionless, panting into the pillow. I knew that one step was enough to make it irreversible.
I reached for the bottle of gel on the shelf. Lube, I used it myself, but now it was going to be something more. I opened it without a word, squeezed some onto my fingers, and spread it over his buttocks.
“Matt...” He raised his head when he heard the familiar sound. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I'm relaxing you,” I replied calmly, rubbing the gel into his muscles, and at the same time moving lower and lower, closer to his crack. “Your ass is tense as a rock.”
“This isn't a massage...” he muttered, but he didn't move away.
“It's the best massage you can get,” I whispered, sliding my fingers along the crack until I hooked my finger in the hole. He shuddered, tensed up, but his body didn't move an inch.
I put the gel down, got up, and pulled down my shorts. My cock was already hard, erect, ready. I stood naked over him, watching him turn his head and glance at me out of the corner of his eye.
“Relax,” I said softly, placing my hand on his back.
“I want you to try something. If you don't like it, we'll stop right away.”
He didn't answer. He just sighed heavily and after a moment lowered his head back onto the pillow.
And I knew that was his consent. Not with words, but with his body.
I sat back on his thighs and lifted my buttocks, slowly spreading them apart. My fingers were covered in gel, so I immediately slid them along his crack. The tip stopped at his hole. I felt his muscles tense up violently and then pulsate slightly.
“Easy…” I said in a low voice. “It’s a muscle too. You have to stretch it, otherwise the soreness won’t go away.”
“Matt...” he croaked, but didn't finish.
I slid the tip of my finger inside. He flinched, hissed, but didn't pull back. After a moment, his body began to relax on its own. I slowly slid deeper, and he sighed heavily into the pillow.
I pulled my finger out and pressed the glans against the entrance. It was hot, tight. Max groaned, and I felt him tense up.
“Breathe,” I whispered in his ear, leaning over him. “If you don't want to, say so.”
“Fuck...” he gasped, but his hips didn't move, he didn't try to pull away.
I entered slowly, inch by inch. His body fought back, his muscles tightened around me, but after a moment I felt them relax. Max moaned in pain, and I held him tightly by the hips, giving him time.
“Good... just like that,” I said calmly, moving minimally.
“Breathe, relax.”
Finally, I was deeper inside him. I began to move slowly, rhythmically, feeling his body shift from stiffness to surrender. His moans changed, less pain, more relief.
I leaned over him, still moving my hips. “See? Even the soreness doesn’t get in the way. This is the best massage you could’ve gotten.”
He just moaned, pressing his forehead against the pillow. And I knew that this was the moment when the biggest barrier had just broken.
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