For an instant, Jago looked offended. “We’ll see. First, your clothes, please. There should be no barriers between us.” He peeled off his shirt and tossed it on one of the pillows at the side of the room. For the first time, Alex saw the muscular contours of Jago’s compact body. These extended to a sharp v-cut, which disappeared into a dark thatch of public hair framing a modest but well-formed cock.
Alex wondered if Jago always forewent underwear, or if the move was choreographed.
Jago eased his body forward, extending it like a snake as he pulled himself on his hands towards Alex, tightening the muscles of his lightly furred and perfectly rounded behind as he turned it to the ceiling with a grin. “Don’t make me come up there.”
Alex quickly opened his belt and shucked off his trousers, followed by his socks.
Jago rolled over, his cock lolling to one side as he rested both hands beneath his head, watching Alex disrobe with a patient smile.
Alex paused before taking off his shirt, only continuing when a nod from Jago boosted his confidence. He felt silly, being so self-conscious in front of a man dressed as nature made him, but touching the soft paunch of his belly, he was suddenly aware of the untrimmed pubes that would accentuate the so-so-dimensions of his cock, the annoying tufts of hair that had begun to sprout on his back, the ugly scar on his right flank, and the one front tooth slightly longer than the other.
“You really hate being on stage, don’t you?”
Jago asked this with such tenderness that Alex managed to dismiss his doubts long enough to toss away his clothes and stand naked before his host.
“Very nice,” Jago breathed, gently wetting his lips as he extended a hand.
It was an unapologetically lustful gesture, and it hadn’t been forced. What this man saw in him, Alex couldn’t say, but if he didn’t stop searching for it, it would deny him the moment he’d craved with Jago since their first conversation outside the cinema.
“Thanks,” he said, lowering to his knees.
Jago reached out and stroked his cheek. “Now, lie down on your stomach.”
“Sorry?”
“Did you think the massage was just a pretext?” Jago reached for a small pot of creamy ointment on a low shelf just beyond where they sat.
Alex did his best to dismiss the faint stirring this set off in his—lackof pants—and there he was, standing at attention for all to see. But if Jago noticed, he didn’t draw attention to it. Alex quickly rolled over, doing his best to smother the fleshy traitor and get comfortable.
“Just lie in whatever position makes you comfortable. Don’t try and anticipate me, just enjoy it.”
Anticipation? That was one word for it. He’d expected the ointment to be cooler for some reason, but as Jago’s hand wrapped around the middle of his left leg, working the stuff in with smooth, upwards gliding motions that teased the crease of his butt before being repeated, Alex found it impossible to do anything but comply. Each stroke was methodical, as if Jago had spent impossible years studying the craft.
“Remember to breathe,” he purred, hands reaching the curve of Alex’s shoulder blade.
“Where did you learn this?” He heard a light, playful sigh, as if Jago had started to laugh but had not wanted to make him feel foolish. He gasped as he felt Jago’s knee slide into the gap between his thighs, just as he pushed his hands along Alex’s back once more, making sure to cover every inch of skin.
“You’re so jumpy,” Jago said. It didn’t bother Alex so much that Jago had avoided his question, not when he swooped down and kissed the back of Alex’s ear. “You have a lovely body, Alex. It’s earthy, natural, and human.”
Alex couldn’t help but tense again, which earned him a playful slap on the rear.
“I won’t harp on it if it makes you uncomfortable, but I do think you need to be told, now and again.” Jago rested his hands on the small of Alex’s back for a second. “You seriously never thought someone would?”
The question caught Alex by such complete surprise, he barely noticed the massage continue, or Jago pressing harder, slipping his hands down both flanks. “I don’t know that Ineverthought that.”
“There’s nothing wrong with having fears. Some would say it’s crucial. The fear of never being loved? Never being desired? Feeling like your creativity and vision isn’t wanted, even in a city that seems open to everything? Rejection is a universal fear.”
Alex winced as Jago pressed into the soles of his feet. At least the pain took away any tickling sensation. “How do you know that?”
“Because I’ve never known a creative who doesn’t feel it. Then, along come the cackling cynics and sycophants. Like flies they attach themselves to whoever they think is the hippest big thing, but they buzz away again just as soon as they get bored or feel threatened, since they may be the only creatures on earth less secure than the artists they haunt. Don’t change your flavour for them. The last thing you need to become is another Si-Man. Turn over.”
“Already?”
“I want to see your eyes.”
Alex did as he was told, silently trying to read what Jago was thinking inside that enviably curious brain. Alex wrinkled his face in confusion as Jago eased himself forward, lifting Alex’s leg and placing it over his shoulder while he applied more of the ointment to the front of Alex’s thighs. It seemed so absurdlyintimate, yet it felt good, having Jago pressing into him, sliding his hands toward where their cocks now warmed one another. He might have been at least semi-erect if Jago weren’t pressing so damn hard into the muscles of his leg. Alex groaned, breathing through the pain.
“Not big on hamstring stretches, are we?” Jago teased, pausing to let Alex catch his breath before he continued.
