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Cally pressed in hard and kept pressing, and the second the knot started to give way, I felt a deep, yawning relief sweep through me.
“Fuuuuck.”
He eased off a fraction. “Shit. Does that hurt?”
“No. Feels so good. Keep going.”
For the next several minutes, he worked down one side of my spine and back up, finding more places I hadn’t known were locked up.
“Your back is nothing but knots. It’s a miracle you can walk, much less skate. This whole group’s seized tight,” he said, his tone dipping into teacher mode as his thumb traced a line up alongside my spine. “Your erector spinae, the paraspinals, they run the length of your back, and they’re basically in spasm, right now. When that happens, your QL and your glutes start compensating, and then everything downstream tightens up to protect the injured segment. It’s all one chain. You take a check to the lower back like you did tonight, and three days later, your hamstrings are tight, and—.” He cut himself off with a muttered, “Sorry.”
I chuckled. “Don’t apologize, Cal. Been a while since you took me to school like that. You know I like your big brain. Better yet, I know you like using it.”
“I miss getting to geek out sometimes,” he replied, his voice so painfully earnest.
“Well, feel free to geek out on me anytime you want. What is it Bell’s always saying—smart is sexy? Guess that makes you the sexiest motherfucker on the team.”
He sputtered and snorted, saying, “Not hard when most of the guys share one brain cell,” and resumed my massage.
I started to drift, losing track of time. Losing track of the pain, too, until eventually his hands slowed and I felt him shift backwards, like he was going to get off the bed.
The noise I made was in no way dignified.
“Noooooo. Don’t stop. If you do, I might die, Cal,” I whined, reaching my hand back aimlessly to try and find his hands so I could put them back on my body.
He laughed and scooted forward, somewhat higher than he’d been before.
“Wouldn’t want that,” he murmured before his hands started smoothing over my back again in wide arcs, out toward my sides, up between my shoulder blades, and then down.
As the massage continued, I became hyper-aware of his solid weight straddling me, the heat radiating off his body, the quiet cadence of his breathing right above me.
On the next pass, Cally’s fingertips skated up my neck, his nails raking into my hair.
It felt too good. The kind of good I’d never experienced getting a massage before.
A slow, insistent throb formed low in my gut, and I groaned into the pillow, biting the fabric as my cock twitched, then swelled and stiffened where it was trapped against the mattress. One second I was relaxed and loose, my bones and muscles melting into the bed; the next I was hard and more turned on than I’d been in … well, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this fucking horny.
You didn’t grow up in my family and not know that sexuality was fluid. But right up until this very moment, it had never been fluid for me. I’d only ever been attracted to women. Had only ever had sex with them. More than that, I’d never wanted to have sex with a man. But I was hard as a fucking rock and desperately wanted to know how it would feel for my best friend to make me come.
So maybe a little bit fluid after all.
“Cal?” I said before I could talk myself out of what could possibly be the biggest mistake of my life.
“Yeah?” he replied softly, his hands coasting feather light across my body.
“Are you …” I trailed off, knowing what I wanted to ask but unsure how to actually say it.
“Am I what?” he asked.
I swallowed down my nerves, the gulp loud in my throat. “Are you attracted to me?”
His hands froze. Then, slowly, his palms slid off my skin. “Is there a reason you’re asking me that?”
The silence stretched, ticking by in slow motion. My throat locked up with panic over the grenade I’d just lobbed into the best friendship I’d ever had as I lay there, pinned under him, waiting for the blast to tear us apart.
“Mikey?” he asked, his tone wary.
I fisted my hands in the pillow.
