Page 10 of Wolfgang

The masseur—and why hadn’t Eric asked him his name? It would be weird to do it now, this late in the process, right?—must have felt him tense.

Those hands paused on Eric’s calf. “Is there a problem, Doctor?”

“N-No,” Eric mumbled, grateful he was facedown and the man couldn’t see his burning cheeks.

“Ah.” The small noise seemed to be loaded with understanding. But the man couldn’t know, could he? What he was doing to Eric without meaning to? And then a warm, heavy palm settled on Eric’s lower back. “Time to turn over now, Doctor.” The instruction came out husky, almost a growl.

“Um.”

A soft stroke of fingers down his spine, like a reassuring caress. “Don’t fret. It’s a natural physical response.”

Okay. Fuck. So he did know.

Howdid he know?

Eric cleared his suddenly dry throat. “It’s not, um, usually an issue for me.”

But he did as he was told anyway, turning over under the sheet and blinking up at the ceiling in the dim light. His erection was clearly tenting the fabric, and embarrassment flooded him, but they were both guys, and the man seemed to know how it was sometimes. Not a big deal, right?

Long-fingered hands appeared in his line of vision, adjusting the sheet along Eric’s chest, but he kept his eyes averted, not ready yet to look at the guy’s face.

“Perfectly natural,” the masseur repeated. “I could even assist you with it, if you like.”

Eric swallowed hard. Was he offering…?

He turned his head to the side, for the first time fully taking in the man who’d been working magic on him in the dim light. He was a little shorter than Eric maybe, just reaching six feet, and dressed all in black. Light-brown hair slicked to the side. A sharp, almost severe face, with cheekbones you could cut yourself on. And his eyes…they seemed to almost glow red, but that must have been a trick of the light.

“Um.”

At his hesitation, the man spread his hands—surprisingly elegant, for how sturdy they’d felt on Eric’s body—in a placating gesture. “Or not. Relax, Doctor. I’ll just do my job, then.”

Why did it sound like an inside joke, the way he said it?

Eric closed his eyes, more tempted by the guy’s offer than he should be. He’d never had a “happy ending” before. Wasn’t that just, like…paying for sex? That was—

He’d never done that before, not ever.

No, he’d just finish out this massage, then go home and jerk off like the pervert he was. He shut his eyes again as the masseur started again on his legs, seemingly determined to turn them into jelly by the end of the session. Eric kept his eyes closed and his lips pressed tight, trying to contain the weird noises he’d been letting out before, refusing to look at the evidence of his own weakness.

But…his problem definitely wasn’t going away, his erection taunting him as the guy worked him over, kneading Eric’s thighs, then his calves, then his feet. At least he’d stopped talking to Eric in that sexy voice.

Eventually the man let go of his feet and moved up, presumably to work on Eric’s shoulders again. But as he did so, he brushed a finger along Eric’s side in one long, smooth glide, causing Eric’s eyes to shoot open and his hips to jerk up before he could stop them.

He was doing it on purpose now, right? Turning Eric on?

But the masseur’s face was impassive, professional as ever. So Eric closed his eyes again as the masseur started kneading at his neck, standing over him at the head of the massage table. And Eric couldn’t help it—he started imagining what it would be like, for those strong hands to lower the sheet slowly, to grasp his straining erection with that firm grip.

He bet the guy would be confident, still professional, almost cold. And even so, it wouldn’t take long. Eric was already so turned on. Just a few strokes of the masseur’s hand—maybe his thumb would play along the head. Maybe if Eric was really good, stayed very still, the man would even bend over him and put his mouth on it—

His cock jerked again, and it took everything in him to keep his hips still.

Fuck. He had to stop thinking like this. He needed out of this room. He’d always known he was a horndog, but Jesus Christ, this was next level.

In a case of perfect timing, the masseur patted his shoulder. “All finished, Doctor.”

Thank all that was holy. Eric cleared his throat for what felt like the thousandth time. “Th-Thank you. That was amazing. And I’m sorr—”

“No apologies necessary. As I said, perfectly natural.”

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