I refuse to negotiate with threats against my poor exploding head. [huffy, pressing both thumbs nearly too hard against a knot of sore muscle, wanting to see quentin tense, wanting him to twitch away, wanting to watch the ripple of all that muscle when faced with a bite of pain.

and then he softens them, returns to gentle, practiced massage, listening idly. an olympian, interesting – not usually on the radar; the clean-cut image tends to make seedy business deals something they avoid. but that michael phelps guy made a killing in sponsorship deals after the ‘04 olympics, so maybe…maybe it’s worth his time.

besides. koby is fine sharing a bathroom with some guy if he’s hot and talks in a voice like hot butter and makes those kinds of sounds when he’s touched. still working his way over the relaxing, loosening muscles, he moves closer, brushing thigh against thigh, letting the warmth of his body radiate, present and right there.]

Everyone’s got bad posture or a bad back or shoulder or something. Take a couple massage courses and you’ll be a hit anywhere you go. [a shrug, a huffing laugh, hands going lower and lower and...] Showers, parties, funerals...