Moves as a Result of Contact

Despite his own hangups, George couldn't stop thinking about how the massage made him feel, about how

Raymond

made him feel. Jerry's words,

moves as a result of contact,

fluttered through his brain over and over, a wasp circling his every thought, stinging and stinging and stinging. Raymond's large, soft hands, slick with oil, rubbing circles into his skin, inching closer and closer to... no.

No.

He wasn't going to think about it. He wasn't going to think about Raymond's deep blue eyes, fixed on George as he took off his pants, rooting him to the spot as he circled the massage table, edging closer and closer, towering over him, slick hands reaching out and...

NO.

But because he couldn't stop thinking about it, and because of what Jerry said and his fantasies and, and, and... He found himself here. In front of the physical therapist's office. Hand on the door, willing himself to go inside. He's alone this time, no Elaine, no Jerry, no one to look at him and point out his flushed cheeks and judge him for his curiosity. He is curious, has been since he saw Raymond looking down at him, asking if he was ready for his first massage. He wants to see Raymond again. He wants to feel his heavy stare as he unbuckles his belt, he wants to feel those hands on him again, he wants to know if the way he feels is real.

George took a deep breath and pushed open the door. The receptionist smiled at him and asked, "George? One o'clock appointment?" to which he timidly nodded, taking a seat when she gestures to the tiny waiting area with its uncomfortable, backless stools. He perched, slightly hunched, visibly uncomfortable as he waited for Raymond to appear. Two minutes passed by and it felt like an eternity in which he questioned every single decision that led him to this exact moment in life, and just before his self-destructive thoughts forced him to flee from the office, a shadow appeared over him. It's Raymond. George looked up, unable to stop himself from gaping. The sunlight that streamed through the door to the clinic cast Raymond in a gentle glow and he looked like an angel descended from Heaven with the sole purpose of making George question every single thing that he ever knew about himself.

"It's good to see you again, George," he said, smiling like he really meant it. "Shall we?" He gestured with his left hand towards his room, waiting for George to stand before moving so that they stood close, close enough for their chests to nearly touch, the hair's breadth between them crackling with electricity for mere moments before Raymond stepped out of George's space. He didn't go far, in fact he placed his hand firmly in the centre of George's back, guiding his feet forward for him, into his massage room, closing the door behind them with a click that resonated in the thick silence.

Raymond busied himself with his oils as George watched in silence. He turned and gestured to the table when he noticed George was still fixed to the floor by the door, the exact place that Raymond took his hand off of his back, no longer propelling him onward. George obediently stripped off his shirt, placing it on the chair next to the table. He made to climb up when- "Wait," Raymond interrupted him. "Take your pants off too."

"Wha- What?" George stumbled over the word, looking at Raymond like a deer caught in the middle of the highway, seconds from disaster.

"Your hamstring is still bothering you, right? It will be easier for us both if you take your pants off now, instead of interrupting the session." Raymond smiled, probably trying to calm George down, but his heart sped up,

what if it's my heart again, what if I'm having a heart attack for real this time?

and he chuckled nervously.

"Right. Right, I'll just..." He opened his belt with trembling hands and dropped his trousers, gingerly stepping out of them, folding them, and placing them on the chair with his shirt.

"Perfect." That smile again, warm and welcoming and sending George's mind into overdrive. Raymond gestured again, "Climb on up now." and George obeyed, lying on his front, hugging the cylindrical pillow to his chest in a vain attempt to mask his nervous shaking. "Alright," Raymond said, stepping up to the table. "Ready?"

George took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice, his heart, his dick,

anything

, and failing. "I'm ready," he weakly said, hands clutching the pillow.

Raymond was, truly, a professional. His hands were soft and slippery as he started to rub George's back. He was firm, applying pressure to his muscles in ways that George knew would be relaxing to anyone who wasn't as high strung as he was. Still, they persisted in trying to work through the knots and tension that riddled his entire body, unfortunately only serving to work George up even further. He shook like a leaf on the table, hyper-aware of the subtle stirring occuring in his underwear.

The massage continued, Raymond talked aimlessly and George stumbled through answering, barely paying attention to anything apart from the intense sensation of another man's hands on his body. Those hands which steadily shifted lower and lower as the massage progressed, until Raymond's thumbs were circling the small of George's back in motions that felt almost sensual as they scorched his skin.

"-eorge. George?" Raymond's voice cut through the panicked screaming in his head.

"Y-yes?" he replied, trying to brush aside his inattentiveness caused by the definite

motion

in his underwear that he could no longer deny wasn't caused by his

contact

with Raymond.

"You're very tense, George, worse than before. Is everything alright?" The concern! The soft crease of worry around his eyes when George turned to face him! He simply couldn't take it anymore.

"No! Everything's not alright!" He cried, turning away ashamedly from Raymond's shocked expression. "I'm confused, I'm scared, I don't know what to do and it's all your fault!" George buried his face in the pillow, not caring that his glasses were pressed uncomfortably against his face.

"George... I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, what's the matter?" He was simply too kind, George couldn't take it a single second longer. He turned onto his front, too worked up to be embarrassed anymore.

"This!" he exclaimed, voice high pitched with panic and shame and manic energy as he gestured at the tent his erection was pitching in his loose boxers. "This is the matter, Raymond! I thought I was straight and now I'm here, like this, because of you!"

The tension flooding the room was thicker than mud. The silence hung between them, George's panicked breaths the only thing to be heard.

"Is that all?"

Huh?

"Huh?" George was shocked straight out of the panic attack he was having and he lay there dumbfounded. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"I mean, is that all? I can see that you're... upset, George, but this doesn't have to be a big deal."

"I've been straight my whole life," George said, his voice small. "All of this is- is

new!

and scary!" He glanced up at Raymond and found his gaze locked into his sympathetic stare.

"George..." Raymond sat on the edge of the table, the fabric of his clothes brushing George's bare leg. George flinched slightly, but Raymond laid a warm, calming hand on his thigh, fingers tickling the hair leading to his more intimate areas. "I'm bisexual," he said, as easy as breathing. "I know that it can be scary to find out something new about yourself like this but," his hand crept upwards, fingertips caressing the hem of George's boxers now, "I can make your first experience a good one, if you like."

George felt pinned by Raymond's deep blue eyes, sparkling with... lust? Surely not, George knows acutely what he looks like and how he can't even compare to Raymond's effortless attractiveness. Even so, Raymond's hand felt so hot on the skin of his leg, paused in its upwards journey as he looked expectantly at George.

"I won't do anything if you don't want me to," he said, confirming his own hesitation, and giving George a clear out. "I want to, though. I want to be your first experience, George." Raymond reached out with his free hand and gently took George's own. Slowly, he pulled their hands into his lap and rested George's on his pants. It took a second for the wires to connect in George's mind, but when he realised what he was feeling, he whimpered. Raymond's dick was hard. It was hard because of George. The realisation swept over him like a wave of lava, his hand flexed involuntarily, feeling the shape and hardness of Raymond, who let out a tiny little groan of pleasure.

"I want you to," George whispered. His dick was harder than ever, harder than he thinks he's ever been in his life, and it was definitely calling the shots now. His hand rubbed up and down, stroking Raymond through his pants in short, nervous motions. Raymond smiled down at him, pearly white teeth shining through his full lips.

They look soft,

George thought, and as if Raymond had read his mind, he leaned down and kissed George. The kiss itself was chaste, considering the fact that George's hand was on Raymond's dick, but it was sweet, the perfect kind of first kiss for someone as neurotic and out of his depth as George. Raymond was patient and considerate as they kissed, letting George set the pace but he wanted more. The dam had been broken and every thought, feeling, fantasy was pouring out of him.

George deepened the kiss, opening his mouth and welcoming Raymond in. Raymond's hand crept up his leg, over his boxers, finally resting on George's dick. It shocked a tremulous moan out of George's mouth and into Raymond's, who pressed harder and kissed desperately like

George

was driving

him

mad. George broke away, every sensation was overwhelming him and his anxious paranoia was screaming at him about how they weren't in a private place, they were at Raymond's workplace and there were

other people

outside and he couldn't let them get caught just because he'd lost control of himself. Instead he bit his lip and stared at Raymond, trying to commit every single one of his handsome features to memory. His lips, now swollen and red, his flushed cheeks, the blue of his eyes dark with intensity and lust, so deep that George felt he could drown if he let himself.

"Are you alright?" Raymond murmured, so conscientious and caring that it made George's chest sore. No one had ever stopped to ask, and the stark reality of how every aspect of Raymond differed from every single partner he'd ever had before in his life made him ache. He'd always wanted this, he realised, to be taken care of and treated like he was special, like he was fragile, because he always felt fragile and no one seemed to notice. For the first time, someone was interested, and George was surprised to find that he actually felt okay. He felt good for once! Sure, he was still semi-freaking out but that was his baseline.

"I think so, but I've never really been... completely alright." Raymond nodded sympathetically. "This is the closest I've been to it in a long time, though," he said, followed by a moan as Raymond squeezed him gently.

"Can I keep going?" he asked.

George chuckled incredulously. "I'd be upset if you didn't!"

Raymond deftly unbuttoned George's boxers with one hand and fished out his dick. The skin on skin contact made George gasp and tremble. Despite how soft Raymond's hands were, they were distinctly masculine, large and slightly calloused, different to every other hand that's ever touched him intimately but oh-so-good because of it. Raymond's hand was slightly slick from the massage oil and the sensations built up inside George embarrassingly quickly. George's hand on Raymond was practically useless, his entire attention being captured by the orgasm building within him. His hips twitched uselessly, his hands spasmed and his gasps became quiet, breathless moans. With barely a word of warning, he came over Raymond's hand and his own boxers, swearing softly as Raymond stared into his soul.

As he calmed down, Raymond grabbed a nearby cloth and used it to wipe his hands, George's dick, and he dabbed at George's boxers to alleviate the wet patches. He tucked George away gently and fastened the buttons of his boxers with care.

"Sorry, you're a bit of a mess now," Raymond said, tutting slightly at himself.

"I'm a bit of a mess usually, it's fine," George replied, feeling awkward and out of place now that his dick had been put away. His hand still rested in Raymond's lap, and he could feel that he was still very much erect. "Do you want me to-"

"-You don't have to," Raymond interrupted hastily, but it was too kind for George.

"I want to," he said firmly, cupping Raymond's dick. "I want to do for you what you did for me."

Raymond searched his face with his eyes, obviously hesitant, but George stood his ground.

"Please... Let me do this." With no further objection, George slowly drew the zipper on Raymond's pants down. He reached into his underwear, hands shaking ever so slightly, and drew him out. His dick was long and hard, glistening with a hint of sweat and precum, glorious in comparison to George's own dick. He felt awed at the sight of it, and uncomfortably intimidated by how pretty a dick could be. He'd never had to think about it before, but when faced with a good-looking dick, he couldn't deny his own attraction to it.

Slowly, with perhaps too much care, George began to stroke Raymond. He was captivated by the head peeking out with each downstroke, precum swelling and dripping and making his grip wetter. Raymond gasped and George looked up at his face, it was screwed up in pleasure and his ocean eyes were darting between George's hand and his face, like he couldn't choose what he wanted to look at more.

"Please, George," he gasped. "Faster."

George obeyed and the slick sound of his stroking filled the room, echoed by Raymond's soft moans. His eyes closed tight, his body shuddered, and he caught George completely by surprise when he came. Thankfully, he hadn't caught himself by surprise, he still held the cloth he'd used to clean George up and he used it to catch his release, efficiently reducing the amount of mess, which George couldn't help but admire in an abstractly impressed manner. Raymond tossed the cloth into a little linen basket in the corner and turned to hold George's face in both hands. George, awkwardly still holding Raymond's softening penis and unsure on the etiquette of when to let go, stared at him until he could no longer, as Raymond moved closer still to kiss him sweetly.

"Thank you, George," he said into their mouths, still kissing him.

"For what?" George mumbled back, brain addled with his orgasm, trying to kiss properly, and every thought he's ever had clamouring for attention. Raymond released him and smiled, all teeth and sunshine. All of the thoughts in George's head screeched to a halt at the sight.

"For letting me be your first experience with another man."

Raymond was radiant as he said it and George stammered out, "You're welcome," immediately cringing at his own awkwardness. Raymond gently moved George's hand from his dick to his thigh and put himself away.

"We've gone over our allotted," he coughed and smiled slyly, "

massage

time." George felt his entire face burst into flames but Raymond just laughed. He rummaged around in one of his pockets and handed George a small card with his name and a phone number printed on it. "I had fun. Please call me sometime."

George took the card like it was made of precious metal instead of merely cardstock. He climbed off of the massage table and pulled out his wallet to put it safely away inside. With his back to Raymond, he had the courage to say, "I will. I'll call you." When he turned back around, Raymond was still sitting on the table, but his smile lit up the whole room.

He sure does smile a lot,

George thought.

I like that.

"And come back for another massage soon, we never got around to your hamstring."

George laughed as he dressed himself. "I definitely will."

He gave a little wave as he left the room, closing the door after himself and allowing himself a giddy little wiggle. What a pleasantly surprising turn of events.