Page 54 of Under His Skin

He never wanted to forget what this felt like. “How… how are you so good at this?” Alex asked in a shaky voice. “You never do this.”

“I used to get massages regularly on Pylos. I also have a vested interest in knowing how to manipulate a human body.” Tracht punctuated his statement by digging both thumbs into Alex’s wrist and pushing outward, spreading the warmth and pressure.

“I get why you like it when I do this,” Alex said. “That’s really good.”

“Don’t ever let it be said that I don’t treat you well.” Tracht laughed for some reason, and kissed the side of Alex’s head.

Yeah, Alex loved it when Tracht was nice. He sank farther into the water and let Tracht manipulate his limbs however he saw fit. Ostensibly he was washing Alex, but it mostly felt like the nicest massage ever. Sure, Tracht never touched Alex’s cock, but Alex’s erections didn’t mean anything. They just existed. Sometimes Alex got to come; mostly he didn’t.

That’s just how life was.

“All right. Let’s wash the shampoo out.” Tracht’s hands on Alex’s shoulders started pushing him, forcing him further into the water.

Alex leaned his head back so that his hair would be submerged. That was nice too, the water muting all sounds for a bit.

Only Tracht didn’t stop pushing. He even placed one hand on Alex’s head, forcing it farther back.

Alex looked at Tracht in alarm. “What are you—what are you doing?”

All the laxness the massage had induced earlier was instantly gone again, muscled coiled tight. His hands scrambled for purchase on the side of the tub, but it was all smooth tile with rounded edges meant for perfect comfort.

“Remember, Alex. I don’t want my clothes to get wet.” Tracht’s grin sent Alex’s heart racing.

Fuck. The implication was clear: Alex couldn’t struggle. If he struggled, he would splash Tracht. And if he did that—he had no idea what kind of punishment awaited him.

Maybe he would only be underwater for a little while. Alex told himself that Tracht couldn’t—wouldn’t—do anything really horrible.

He took a deep breath and shut his eyes tight, and then allowed himself to get pushed under.

The first twenty seconds weren’t so bad. Tracht had one hand on Alex’s throat and the other in Alex’s hair, and there was something mildly comforting about the position, suspended in warm water.

Only it was longer than twenty seconds. Alex’s lungs started to burn, and he ended up trying to lift his arm out of the water, only to have Tracht push him down further. Alex’s head was flush against the smooth tile of the tub.

He opened his eyes a fraction and regretted it as soon as the soapy water hit his eyeballs. Fuck. He shut them tight again, so all he had was the darkness, the water, and Tracht’s hand splayed wide just under his neck, keeping him in place.

Alex tried to tell himself that this wasn’t any different than when Tracht choked him with his cock, but at least in those cases, he could see Tracht. Here, there was nothing. He had no way of knowing how long this would last, what Tracht was thinking or feeling.

If this went on, he thought he would end up struggling. Tracht would get so mad if he did that.

Then, mercifully, Tracht’s hand moved to his shoulder, guiding him back up. Alex gasped loudly as soon as his head was above water, taking in all the air he could, his muscles trembling.

“That was fifty seconds,” Tracht said.

Alex couldn’t see him, but he thought Tracht sounded happy. He wanted to answer, but he was too busy breathing. Only fifty, though? It had felt like so much more.

“I think you can go for longer though.”

Longer? Alex shook his head to try to get the hair out of his eyes, then gave Tracht a pleading look. “N-no. Tracht, please. Can’t we just…”

“Are you protesting already?” Tracht gave him a disappointed look. “Well, the door is right there. You’re free to leave whenever you want.”

That made Alex sound weak, like he was giving up already. But Alex would have knelt for all the cameras, and he wasn’t going to let water defeat him. Didn’t people on planets do this all the fucking time? He’d watched plenty of movies where the leads ended up in water filled death traps and had to hold their breaths for like five minutes.

“Sorry. Again. I’ll do it again.” Alex sat back again and grimaced when Tracht’s hand settled on the hollow of his throat again, once more pushing. Not even pushing hard—it would have been child’s play to break out of that hold. Alex had to submerge himself.

He took a larger breath this time, right before he went under the water. Once again, he was simply floating, letting the air slowly out of his mouth. If he pretended he was on a treadmill, regulating his breathing… except on the treadmill he got to breathe at regular intervals.

Maybe this was what it felt like to float in outer space. He’d watched the repair techs go out there sometimes, wearing full body suits that were anchored to the ship. He never wanted to do that, either, terrified of floating off into nothing.

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