In the Middle of Somewhere (Middle of Somewhere, #1)(49)
Rex massages my neck, strong thumbs digging into the muscles on either side, then runs his fingers into my hair, massaging my scalp. I guess he wasn’t kidding about finishing that massage. He kisses the back of my neck, then moves on to my shoulders. At first, I tense every time he moves to a new part of my body, but he just keeps whispering, “It’s okay, relax,” and, little by little, I do. He spreads my arms, massaging my biceps, and then down my ribs. My breath catches when his thumbs go to my spine. I can hear little pops and cracks as his weight bears down on me.
With every breath and every touch, I feel like I’m melting into the mattress. When Rex straddles me on the bed, I can feel his heat everywhere. He kisses the back of my neck and the top of my spine as his strong hands massage my lower back, pressing me into the sheets. His palms skim my thighs and I tense up again.
“You’re okay,” Rex murmurs, and uses more pressure, massaging the muscles of my thighs firmly. I bury my face in the pillow, hugging it to me, tensing up again. No one has ever touched me like this. Cared for me like this. It’s like Rex thinks of my body as something he’s responsible for. Something precious. I shake my head in the pillow.
“Hey,” he says, “look at me.” He rolls me to my side so he can see my face. “What’s wrong? Do you want me to stop?”
I shake my head violently but can’t muster a single word.
“Do you want me to keep going?” I nod. Rex is looking at me carefully. I don’t know how to explain it to him. I keep opening my mouth and nothing comes out. Rex gives me a sad smile. “Do you want me to take care of you? Make sure you’re relaxed?” Is that a trick question? Do I want him to take care of me? What does that mean? I don’t want Rex to think I’m weak, but I don’t want him to stop. I want this to be like a dream, where things just happen and no one talks about them and everything is liquid and sleepy. I wish I were drunk so I could let him do whatever he wants to me and it wouldn’t have to be my choice. I don’t think I’m supposed to wish for that.
Rex presses a soft kiss to my cheekbone. “Just try and relax, all right? You don’t have to think about anything. You don’t have to do anything. Your only job is to relax, okay?” I nod.
Just relax. No big deal, right? Just relax. Years of experience have taught me that it is a big deal, though. If you relax, you’re unprepared for what might happen next. If you relax, someone can sneak up on you. If you relax, you can’t react quickly enough. Years of brotherly sneak attacks on the couch, being pulled into hallways and alleys, and slammed against lockers and walls have taught me so.
“Daniel, do you trust me?” Rex asks. I think I do. Intellectually, I know Rex isn’t going to hurt me, but it’s not as easy as I thought. Not as much of a choice as I thought. I take a deep breath and decide that it’s just mind over matter. If I want to trust Rex, I just have to do it. I close my eyes and nod.
I’m rewarded with a kiss on the mouth and a smile. Rex looks genuinely pleased. I let out a deep breath, glad to have done the right thing, and spread my arms out again, letting go of my death grip on the pillow. If I open my eyes just a sliver, the green flannel of Rex’s sheets is a nubbly landscape that I can pretend is moss. I’ve always wanted to take a nap on a bed of moss.
Rex’s hands are back. I imagine that he’s some kind of sinewy mountain cat padding across my back, pressing me deeper into the springy moss with his huge paws. I used to do this as a kid. I’d lie in bed with the covers over my face and pretend that my stuffed animals were bigger than me. I would pretend that my stuffed lion would gather me up in its paws like a cub and pull me on top of its stomach to sleep.
Even Rex’s pine and cedar smell fits. Now he’s a tree that has been standing for two hundred years, limber enough to bend with the wind, but sturdy enough to shelter me. His hands are on my thighs again, and this time it’s like he’s soothing muscles I didn’t even know I had, stroking purely functional things to a sensual tingle.
“Okay?” Rex asks, and I want to ask him how a tree can talk. I just nod, though, my eyes closing a bit, casting the green hillside into the first shadows of evening.
It’s working. I really am relaxing. Then Rex’s hands touch my ass and I don’t want to pretend anymore. He takes the globes of my ass in his hands and massages them and it feels like I’m drowning, sinking deep into something warm and viscous, like honey. I moan as his palms rest on the hills of my ass and his thumbs caress my lower back. Then he slides his hands to my hips and massages them, rotating them one at a time.
He kneels between my legs, spreading them to make room for him, and kneads my inner thighs and up to the crease of my bottom. He takes me by the hips and digs strong thumbs into my spine, pushing my knees up and apart. His hands slide back to my ass, fingers dipping into my crack, and I moan again. Every touch is electric. I never knew relaxing could feel so amazing. Every strong squeeze of his hands on my ass sends jolts of heat to the base of my spine and my cock, the only part of me that is not relaxed. I squirm a little, trying to maneuver myself into a position that isn’t crushing my burgeoning erection.
Rex lifts my hips easily and settles me back on the bed tenderly, then urges me down again, his attention returning to my ass. I gasp when I feel his hand on my erection, and I let my breath out slowly as he gentles me again, caressing my ass softly to relax me.