Page 152 of In at the Deep End

The tension beneath his palms surprised him. He worked slowly, learning rather than assuming, paying attention to the way Owen’s breathing changed whenever he found a knot or eased the pressure.

Before long, Owen had stopped talking altogether. His breathing lengthened, his shoulders gradually lost their rigidity, and whatever tension remained seemed to melt away beneath his hands.

It struck Matt this wasn’t really about sore muscles. Owen had spent the weekend trusting him with one vulnerability after another.

This was simply another kind of trust.

“You know, for someone who claims to be retired, you carry an awful lot on your shoulders.”

Owen gave a sleepy huff of laughter. “Occupational hazard.”

“I thought you’d left the job behind.”

“Apparently my body didn’t get the memo.”

Matt laughed and continued, enjoying the simple rhythm of caring for the man beneath him. He slid his hands across Owen’s broad shoulders, using his thumbs to push into the muscles, moving slowly down Owen’s back before heading up to his shoulders again.

“Oh.” Owen turned his head towards Matt. “That feels so good.”

Matt smiled. “Then close your eyes and I’ll keep going.”

Owen sank his face into the pillow, and Matt resumed, moving over the flesh with slow, steady strokes, kneading gently. He worked on Owen’s neck muscles, shoulders, upper arms, and all the while a soft litany of ohs filled the air. Matt reapplied the oil, then shifted lower to Owen’s arse cheeks.

Owen’s chorus of Ohs grew louder.

Matt chuckled as he dug his fingers into the firm globes, squeezing, kneading…

“I figured this was where you needed the most attention after a day’s riding.” He slid his hands over Owen’s arse to the tops of his thighs, the edge of his fingers straying into Owen’s crack.

Owen spread his legs and buried his face in the pillow, muffling his moans. Matt kept up the massage, the motions fluid and sensual. His cock rose, flushed and hard, and he gave it a silent talking to.

This was for Owen.

“Roll over onto your back,” he instructed.

Owen flipped over. “Sorry.”

Matt was about to ask why he was apologising when he noticed Owen’s shaft, thick and solid against his belly. Matt let out a chuckle.

“No apology needed. It had the same effect on me.”

Owen rested his head on the pillow, his arms above it, one leg bent at the knee. Matt dribbled the oil onto Owen’s chest, then slid his hands over the mat of hair, moving lower. Owen’s cock jerked whenever Matt’s fingers edged too close to it.

“Kiss me,” Owen demanded.

As if Matt could refuse that.

He leaned over and their lips met in a leisurely, sensual kiss, Matt’s hands still gliding slowly over Owen’s chest and belly, lower, lower, until his fingertips grazed the head of Owen’s dick.

Owen’s low gasp was beautiful to hear.

Matt kept his gaze locked on Owen’s face as he worked his shaft with unhurried strokes, pausing only to give his balls a gentle squeeze.

Owen swallowed. “Matt…”

He didn’t hesitate. He bent over Owen’s crotch, curled his fingers around the base, and took the head of Owen’s cock between his lips.

“Oh God, yeah.” Owen teased his own nipples with his thumbs, hips rocking a little as he tried to fill Matt’s mouth.