casey
Harrison’s hands are magic. Actual magic gifted from the gods in heaven. I am not even joking, nor am I ashamed of the sounds I am making as he works those magical fingers into my sore muscles. I think I could die a happy man lying here on this treatment bed with Harry working me over like this.
“Oh yes, right there, Harry,” I whimper as he digs into my adductor muscle.
“Geez, Casey, no need to make it sound so sexual,” Harrison mutters. I open my eyes with a snort, zoning in on the soft line of pink dotting his cheeks.
“Seriously, Harry, with hands like yours I’m not entirely sure it isn't sexual.”
He lets out a long sigh which is tempered by his reluctant laugh. “Way to make my profession sound dirty.”
“Hey, I roll around in the mud with a bunch of sweaty guys every day.”
“True,” he replies, working my adductor just bordering this side of pain. I moan again and he sighs.
“I just can’t with you sometimes, Case.”
“Oooh, did you just nickname me?” I respond, instantly delighted. “Say it again.”
“No.”
“Please?” I beg. “Say it or I’ll keep talking dirty to you.”
“Fine,Case,” he huffs dramatically. But I know better by now. I know Harrison, and I know he secretly likes my teasing. Well, I hope he does and I’m not just totally misreading our little friendly banter thing we've got going on.
“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” I grin. He responds by knuckling my groin in a way that is borderline indecent, and I whimper again. “At least take me out to dinner first, man.”
“You are impossible,” he sighs.
“Well, I did just have an ice bath. I’m not at my best.”
He moves away from my groin area to focus on my calf muscles, but I don’t miss his little smile that he’s trying to keep hidden from me. See? I knew we were on the up and up with each other.
I don’t love the Deep Heat gel that always accompanies my treatments, but Harrison’s magic hands certainly help as he gently massages the gel into my muscles with those soft, rhythmic strokes. I feel myself drifting away—just the gentle breathing sounds made by the two of us and Harrison’s magic hands—when we’re rudely interrupted by the loud entrance of Dean Hampton.
“You almost finished up in here?” he asks, abruptly waking me out of my zone.
“Give me five more minutes for some stretching and he’s all yours,” Harrison replies.
I whimper again. “Haven’t you inflicted enough pain on me for one day?”
“Oh darling,” Harrison tuts. “We’re just getting started.”
Dean chortles a laugh as he steps towards the door. “Send him into the weights room when you’re done.”
“Will do. Can you keep him off his legs today?”
“Sure thing,” Dean responds as the door closes behind him.
“Save me, Harry,” I whisper, staring up at him imploringly. “I’m not ready for arms day.” He just grins at me before reaching for my hand and hauling me up to a sitting position.
“Where’s that killer instinct I’ve heard so much about?”
“Oh he’s still in there. Just buried deep inside by your magic hands. I want to do more of that type of treatment.”
Harrison laughs softly. “That type of treatment won’t do much for those abs.”
“Abs are overrated.”
