Sports Massage First Time

Everett was twenty-four, a college sprinter with a left hamstring that had finally called his bluff. The last block of bounds in the university sports club had left him limping, sweat cold on his neck, the muscle knotted so hard he could feel it pull with every step toward the side door. Henrik was already there, twenty-six, former teammate, duffel slung over one shoulder like he still belonged to the roster even though he didn't. He worked now as a certified sports massage therapist out of a small studio attached to his apartment, and he still had the same calm eyes Everett had trusted on the track for years.

"You're dragging that leg," Henrik said.

"Hamstring," Everett said. "Tight as wire. Coach wants me iced and rubbed out before Friday's session, and the training room's booked solid."

Henrik studied the way Everett held his hip. "Come by my place. I've got the table free. No charge. You can owe me a burger when you can walk without swearing."

Everett huffed a laugh that turned into a wince. "You sure? I'm a mess."

"I've worked on worse. And I'd rather fix you than watch you tear it."

They walked the few blocks in the cooling evening, not saying much. They had been straight teammates for years, the kind who talked about women in the locker room and never once looked at each other like this. Henrik's apartment was quiet, the studio door already unlocked, blinds half drawn so the light came in stripes across a padded table, a shelf of bottles, and a towel warmer ticking softly. The air smelled clean, faintly of menthol. Henrik washed his hands at the small sink and rolled his sleeves.

"House rule," he said, not quite looking at Everett. "For a hamstring this deep I need skin. Shirt off, shorts off. Athletic briefs stay on. Then face down, face in the cradle."

The words landed heavier than they should have. Everett had stripped in front of Henrik a hundred times in locker rooms, joking, rushing, never thinking about it. Here the room was small and the instruction was specific, and the gray briefs he had on under his training shorts suddenly felt like the only thing that mattered. He pulled his shirt over his head. His chest was still flushed from the session, stomach tight, a line of sweat drying along his ribs. He toed off his shoes, pushed his shorts down, and stood in the briefs, the fabric snug across his ass and the front of him, waistband sitting low. Henrik's gaze moved over him once, slow enough that Everett felt it, then Henrik nodded at the table.

"Up," he said. "We'll go slow. You tell me what you feel."

Everett climbed on, the vinyl cool against his stomach and chest, and fitted his face into the cradle. His pulse was louder than it had any right to be. Henrik's palm settled briefly between his shoulder blades, warm and steady, and oil warmed between his hands with a soft slick sound.

"Breathe," Henrik said. "I've got you. We're going to take our time."

Henrik worked up the calf in long, oiled strokes, thumbs digging until Everett groaned into the cradle. The pain was clean. Henrik's voice stayed low.

"There. Don't fight it."

He moved higher, over the knee, into the hamstring. Heat spread under his hands. Everett felt every inch of the climb, palms bracketing the tight cord, pressing, releasing, pressing again. When the hands reached the top of his thigh they smoothed over the lower curve of his ass, oil darkening the gray cotton where fabric met skin.

"You've kept your glutes strong," Henrik said. "Definition like this, I can see the striations even through the cloth. Hold still. I need in deeper."

His thumbs slipped under the leg openings, skin on skin, and worked where hamstring met glute. The touch lingered a second longer than the muscle required. Everett's breath caught and came back heavier. His cock stirred against the table, trapped in the snug briefs, and he shifted before he could stop himself.

"Easy," Henrik murmured. "You're clenching."

"Trying," Everett said, rough.

Henrik's hands left. Everett heard a shirt come off, then pants. When the hands returned they were hotter, and a bare knee brushed the table. Everett turned his head. Henrik stood in black briefs, chest broad, oil on his forearms, breathing heavier too. The front of those briefs was no longer flat. The shape of him pressed thick against the cotton.

Everett's own cock finished getting hard so fast it hurt. The gray fabric tented under his hips. He knew Henrik could see it. Neither of them looked away. Henrik's thumbs worked slow circles into the muscle and didn't leave. Everett heard his own breath go ragged and realized Henrik's had too.

Henrik's palm settled over one glute and squeezed, appreciative. His fingers traced the waistband, then slipped back under the cotton, kneading and staying there until oil soaked the briefs and they clung. Everett's breathing went heavier, loud in the quiet room.

"Jesus, Everett. You fill these out. I keep telling myself I'm just working the tissue."

"Are you?"

Henrik's thumb stroked the crease where ass met thigh, just inside the brief. "I was. I'm not sure I am anymore."

He spread oil over Everett's ass through the cloth, then under it, fingers careful. Everett pushed back into the touch. A low sound left his throat. Both of them were breathing like they'd just finished a sprint.

Henrik went still. "I can keep this a hamstring session. Or I can massage everywhere. Thighs, ass, the front of you. All of it. Only if you want that. Say no and I stop. Say yes and we take these off."

Everett turned his face out of the cradle. He had never wanted another man's hands like this, not until the wanting was already in his body.

"Yes," he said, breathless. "Everywhere. I want it."

Henrik helped him sit up. The table creaked. Both of them were hard and obvious in their underwear, knees touching. The gray cotton was damp at the tip where Everett had leaked. Henrik's black briefs had a matching dark spot. They looked at that evidence and neither made a joke of it. For a moment they only looked. Then Everett hooked his fingers in Henrik's waistband, and Henrik did the same to the gray briefs, and they peeled the cloth down together, slow, curious, watching each other get bare. Elastic dragged over Everett's cock and it sprang free, flushed and wet at the tip. Henrik's was thick, heavy, curving up once the briefs cleared it. They kicked the underwear aside and didn't look away.

Naked, Everett lay back when Henrik guided him down, the table narrow enough that Henrik had to stand between his thighs. Oil gleamed on both of them. Henrik's hands slid up Everett's stomach and over his chest, learning him without the excuse of a muscle. Everett caught one wrist. Pulse jumped under Henrik's thumb.

"Still yes?" Henrik asked.

"Still yes. Come here."

Henrik kissed him. It was clumsy for a second, then Everett opened and the kiss went deep, slow, salt and the mint Henrik must have chewed after training. Their cocks brushed, a slick shock, and both of them groaned into it.

Henrik moved down, mouth on Everett's throat, his chest, the line of his stomach, until his breath was hot on Everett's cock. He looked up, checking. Everett nodded, fingers in his hair.

Henrik took him in slow. His mouth was wet and careful, tongue on the underside, lips stretching around the head before he sank lower. One forearm pinned Everett's hips. The other hand wrapped Henrik's own cock and stroked in the same unhurried rhythm. The sight of that fist working while Henrik sucked made Everett's thighs shake. He had never been in another man's mouth. The heat of it, the careful suction, the way Henrik's tongue pressed just under the head on every upstroke, wrecked the last of his certainty that this was only curiosity. His hands tightened in Henrik's hair. Henrik looked up at him with his lips stretched around Everett's cock and stroked himself faster, wrist shining, a low hungry sound caught in his throat. Everett's hips tried to rise. Henrik held him and took him deeper, slow, devoted, like he wanted to learn every inch.

"Fuck. That's so good. Don't stop."

Henrik hummed around him and took him deeper, saliva shining when he pulled back to lick the head, then down again. He stroked himself harder, precome slicking his fingers. Everett tugged his hair before he lost it.

"Wait. I want my mouth on you too."

They shifted until Henrik stood close, cock heavy in front of Everett's face. Everett wrapped a hand around the base, felt the heat, and leaned in. Salt and skin. He licked, tentative, then took the head and sucked the way Henrik had, slow and curious, learning what made Henrik's stomach jump. The weight of Henrik on his tongue made his own cock throb against his stomach. He hollowed his cheeks, tasted precome, and moaned around the thickness of him. Henrik's hand stayed gentle on his neck, thumb stroking, letting Everett set the pace of this first time.

"God, Everett. Just like that. Your mouth is perfect."

Everett stroked what he couldn't take and sucked harder until Henrik's thighs trembled. Henrik pulled him off with a groan.

"Too close. I don't want to finish in your mouth. I want to feel you."

They came together again, Everett on his back, Henrik covering him, cocks sliding in oil and spit. Henrik pressed the shafts together in his fist and ground them in long slow drags. Everett wrapped his legs around Henrik's hips and rocked up, heads catching, smearing wet across their stomachs. They kissed through it, messy, breathing each other's air. Oil and precome made every grind slippery. Everett felt the ridge of Henrik's head drag along his shaft, felt his own cock jump in Henrik's fist, and heard them both moan like they couldn't help it. He kissed Henrik harder, open-mouthed, desperate for more contact and not ready to let go of this one.

"Feel that? That's me against you."

"I feel it. Harder. I want you to leak on me."

Henrik ground deeper, the slick sound obscene. Everett gripped his ass and pulled him in, then found the words.

"Lower. I want your mouth on me. I want to know what that feels like."

Henrik hooked Everett's knees up and spread him with oiled hands. Everett flushed and didn't close his legs. Henrik's tongue found his hole, a hot wet stripe, and Everett cried out at how good it was. Henrik's stubble scraped the sensitive skin. His tongue was patient and filthy, flattening, circling, pushing until Everett's hole fluttered and took the tip. Everett's hands scrabbled at the table. He had not known he could want this, a man's mouth there, and now he couldn't imagine asking Henrik to stop. Henrik licked him slow, circling, pressing in, backing off, until Everett was panting and pushing down onto his mouth.

"Yes. There. Don't stop."

A slick finger slid in beside Henrik's tongue. Everett bore down and took it. A second finger followed, oil easing the way.

"You're opening for me. Tell me if you want my cock. Tell me plain."

"I want it. Inside me. Slow. Bare. I want to feel all of you."

Henrik slicked himself, lined up, and paused with the head pressed to Everett's hole.

"Breathe out. Push against me. I'll go slow. You can stop me any second."

"I won't want you to stop."

Henrik pushed in. The stretch burned, then gave, inch by careful inch, until his hips met Everett's ass and he was buried, shaking with the effort of holding still.

"Okay?"

"Full. So full. Move. I need you to move."

He drew back and thrust in, deep and unhurried. They found a missionary rhythm, chests together, mouths meeting between moans. Every stroke dragged over something that made Everett's cock jerk and leak across his stomach. He pulled Henrik in harder with his heels.

"Deeper. Fuck me deeper. I can take it."

"You feel incredible. Hot and tight. Take all of me."

Henrik fucked him in long deep strokes, kissing him through the gasps, one hand braced by Everett's head, the other wrapped around Everett's leaking cock. The table creaked. Sweat gathered at Henrik's throat. Everett licked it and felt Henrik shudder all the way inside him. They kissed like they were trying to climb inside the feeling, messy and deep, moaning into each other's mouths every time Henrik sank home. Everett met him, rolling his hips, urging him with his body and his voice.

"Yes. Like that. Right there. Don't you dare go easy on me now."

"I won't," Henrik said, and proved it with a slow, grinding thrust that made Everett see white behind his eyes.

"Harder," Everett gasped, and Henrik gave it to him, still deep, still slow enough to feel every inch.

Everett urged him on with his mouth and the broken sounds he couldn't hold, and Henrik answered every plea with another slow grind that seated him to the root.

"Don't pull out. Stay in me. I want to feel you when you come."

"I'm close. Come with me. I've got you."

Henrik tightened his fist and fucked him deeper, grinding in slow circles that pressed exactly where Everett needed. Everett's orgasm hit like a sprint he couldn't control, cock pulsing in Henrik's hand, come striping hot across his abs and chest. The clench dragged Henrik over. He buried himself and came hard, spilling deep inside, moaning Everett's name against Everett's mouth until he was spent and shaking.

They stayed tangled, Henrik still inside him, both panting. The studio smelled like oil and sex. After a while Henrik eased out, careful, and Everett shivered at the loss. Come slicked his abs. Henrik's leaked warm between his thighs. Henrik took a warm towel from the rack and cleaned him gently, then himself, then the table, the two of them quiet and close.

When Everett could look up, Henrik was watching him with a shy, satisfied smile. Everett smiled back the same way, stunned and wrecked and sure.

"That was my first time with a man," Everett said. "I didn't know it could feel like that."

"Mine too," Henrik said. "And it was incredible."

They dressed slowly, briefs first, bumping shoulders, laughing once when the hamstring twinged and Henrik's hand went to it on instinct. The knot was looser. At the studio door they stood close in the cool air, neither of them pretending this had been only a massage.

"I want to do it again," Henrik said. "Soon. Not as a maybe."

Everett met his eyes, the question already in his mouth.

"Then when, and do you want me under you again or finally inside you?"