paradisalogs | [Closed] Video games, go!

"Oh, I know you will." Which was a pleasant thought, really. He might be a stubborn jackass, but he genuinely put effort into things.

Like the way his fingers found the same spots that had made her groan last night. They did the same tonight, and she relaxed as much as she could under him.

He was a firm believer in the old axiom that if there was a job worth doing, it was a job worth doing right. No matter how uncomfortable the circumstances. Not unpleasant. But uncomfortable.

He started at the top, just as he'd done the night before, the same method with his fingers and the heel of his hand, digging in deeply into the muscles. She wasn't nearly so tense as the night before, likely due to the hot springs, but there were still pockets of knotted muscles as he worked his way down, stopping only to re-oil his hands.

"M'gonna keep betting with you to make you keep doing this," she mumbled, letting out another sound that bordered on almost being obscene. She couldn't help it, though. His goddamn hands were just... just... there went another noise.

Maybe he'd discovered his calling here. Maybe not. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear sounds like those from anyone else. He was beginning to enjoy himself, scooting up a bit so that he could lean in farther, reaching more of her back.

"I only work nights and weekends, and I don't do windows."

"Windows are for chumps. Why do them when you can do me?" The phrasing was innocent and completely slipped her mind as she let a happy little sigh slip out of her. "God, did you read about massages or something in car form, because day-um, skillz, Kitt-Katt. You got them."

"I'd much rather do you." Same. Same same same. He might throw some elbow into it for a change-up.

"I can't recall. I don't think so." Mmmhmm, he could feel that muscle right there trying to resist him. He rocked himself forward and back, giving himself some leverage to tease out the knot.

So lost in bliss is she, that she doesn't even catch the slip, which she normally would have teased him mercilessly about. You're lucky, Kitt.

The rocking, however, is adding a little extra... extra to the rub, and has the tone of the sound she makes changing just a tad. Just a little, for anyone paying attention. "So good..."

Oh, he feels lucky, Kenzi.

The pointy bend of his elbow was digging into her back, teasing out the kinks. He had a rhythm going now, rocking and rubbing and rocking and digging. He really should be charging money for this.

Maybe he should, but he was all hers for two blessed weeks. And good god, was he trying to get her off? Because that was surprisingly effective in the whole scheme of 'things that made her tingle and grip at the pillow while muffling a sound'.

Twelve more days, but who was counting?

He wasn't trying to do anything but give her the massage she requested. Unfortunately he was becoming. Aware. Of some unfortunate side effects to his rocking and rubbing.

This did not please him. It did not please him at all.

Was it the movement? The friction? Her bikini? The oil? He could not say. All that he knew was that he had to stop what he was doing, to give himself some time to breathe.

Stopping had her letting out a muffled groan of disappointment, and she turned her head to look back at him. "What? Why? Why?" Those three words were laced with infinite amounts of frustration, and a tinge of a whine.

He had his hands on his thighs, breathing slowly in and out, in and out, count the breaths, in and out. He refused to look at her, but he did manage to hold up his hand, indicating with his finger for her to give him a moment.

In and out. In and out.

It was the sounds she'd made. Definitely the sounds.

"Dude, are you having some kind of car-coronary or something? Don't die, Kittikins." She wriggled to try to roll over under him, concerned about his lack of talking, since he was normally so gabby, and the look on his face.

Pretty accurate. That described rather well what he thought he was feeling. "I just." Urf. "Need a moment, Kenzi." One in which he did not move at all.

"Need a moment for wha--," the question was bitten off when she felt her thigh brush against something and looked down. Oh. Um... it hadn't looked that big before...

"Oh. Okay. Um, take a minute. Or three. Whatever."

He nodded rapidly, still not looking at her, looking everywhere in the room but her, oh look, he'd never noticed that cobweb up in the corner before...

He held up his finger again, then slowly added two more.

She stayed still, arms tucked tight to her sides as she tried not to move -- or stare. Reeeeally hard not to do both.

He was tapping the fingers of his free hand against his thigh now, as he was afraid to drop his other hand, still counting to three. He pursed his lips, then chewed on the bottom one, hoping the pain might prove a distraction.

After what seemed an interminable amount of time, he made a fist out of the hand hanging in the air between them, and with a final drawn out sigh of breath, extricated himself agonizingly carefully from her bed.

"I think we're done here."

She just nodded. Then she cleared her throat. "Um, you know... it happens, and stuff."

Not to him. Self-control was his middle name. Or it had been. Nothing made sense anymore.

"Mmmhmmm." He was just going to go curl up on his bed for a while. A few years at least, no big deal.

She sat on the edge of her bed, staring over at him. Aww... crapballs. "Dude, it's totally natural. I mean, that's what bodies do. With, uh, stimulation, and stuff."

He had his back to her, curled in on himself with his knees drawn up. The immediacy had passed, leaving only a dull urge in its wake. He really didn't want to hear any excuses or any feel-good platitudes. He held up his hand to ward off any more, waving it vaguely before lowering it again.

She didn't know how to deal with this. This was boy territory. She had a feeling that going over and trying to comfort him was just going to piss him off more, so she got up and found something to get dressed in.

"I'm going to go grab dinner. You, uh, want to come or should I bring something back?"

He wasn't angry, and certainly not at her. He was devastatingly embarrassed. He'd let her down. He'd let them both down. They were roommates, friends, nothing more. How could she trust him, now that this had happened? She'd made it clear she wouldn't be bringing anyone back to the room, but now she had to deal with the person already in the room. And now she was the one trying to make him feel better.

Dinner was the last thing on his mind. He waved at her again. "I don't need anything."

She let out a 'pff' and pulled on a pair of shoes. "I'm bringing you back something. You're not going to waste away just because you're emo'ing over getting some wood, Kitt. I'll bring you back a sub."

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