"Ah…" Rafael finally managed a laugh after gathering his senses. The initial panic had subsided, but the embarrassment lingered like a heavy cloud.
The thought of how he had behaved, acting like a wild animal in heat and then trying to blame the innocent Mafia lord was mortifying. A blush of shame spread across his cheeks as he fumbled for a response.
"I really can give massages," he began, trying to compose himself. "But aren't you busy, sir?" He asked, wanting to be sure.
After all, his massages were notorious for their intensity, like a potent drug that could leave someone completely undone. It had taken him a while to realize just how powerful they were; they worked wonders, like a potent sleeping pill, but with a much more intoxicating effect.
Marco's deep, husky voice cut through his thoughts. "I figured you'd need some equipment, so I asked my secretary to pick up massage oils and other supplies from the store," he said, his tone relaxed as he lay there, his chin resting on the pillow.
Rafael hesitated, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "Okay… Should I wait for him then?" he asked, ready to get up from the bed, desperate for a moment to clear his head.
But before he could move, he felt Marco's hand on his, a firm yet gentle grip that sent a jolt of electricity through his body. His senses went on high alert, his heart racing as if it was trying to escape his chest. Marco's touch alone was enough to send him into a frenzy.
'Be sane, be sane…' Rafael mentally chanted, desperately trying to keep his composure. He turned to Marco, his eyes filled with a mix of confusion and something else; something dangerous that he was struggling to suppress.
"It's there," Marco said, pointing to the middle shelf.
Rafael's gaze followed his finger, spotting a sleek black box nestled among the other items. He nodded, trying to ignore the growing tension between them as he stood and walked over to retrieve the box. His hands trembled slightly as he picked it up, the weight of the situation settling over him like a heavy blanket.
Returning to the bed, Rafael opened the box to reveal an array of massage oils and tools. The sight brought a fresh wave of nervousness. 'I can't let this get out of hand…' he thought, taking a deep breath.
He selected a bottle of oil, uncapping it and pouring a small amount into his hands. The scent of lavender and eucalyptus filled the room, a soothing aroma that did little to calm the storm brewing inside him. He rubbed his hands together, warming the oil before placing them on Marco's back.
The moment his hands made contact with Marco's skin, Rafael felt a shiver run down his spine. Marco's body was firm, his muscles taut beneath his fingers. Rafael's inner battle intensified, he had to focus, had to keep his thoughts in check. This was just a massage, nothing more.
As Rafael began to knead the muscles along Marco's spine, he could feel the tension melting away under his touch. Marco let out a low moan, a sound that sent a thrill through Rafael, making it even harder to concentrate. His hands moved slowly, deliberately, working out the knots with practiced ease. But with every sigh and moan from Marco, Rafael's resolve weakened.
'Focus… Just focus…' he reminded himself, but it was nearly impossible. The way Marco's body responded to his touch, the way his own body reacted in turn; it was maddening. He could feel the heat rising between them, the unspoken tension growing with every stroke of his hands.
"You're good at this… really good," Marco murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction, sending a shiver down Rafael's spine.
Rafael's heart pounded in his chest as he continued, his hands sliding lower, applying just the right amount of pressure. He could feel Marco's muscles quiver beneath his fingers, a clear sign of how much he was enjoying the massage. Each touch, each movement, seemed to draw a deeper, more primal reaction from Marco.
Then, Rafael felt Marco's hand on his again, the electrifying sensation shooting through him like a jolt. He struggled to keep his composure, his thoughts racing as the intensity of the touch clouded his mind.
Marco's deep voice broke through the haze. "Let me change my position. I'd like my abs and muscles massaged too," Marco said.
"Ah… alright," Rafael managed to stammer out, still trying to regain control of his senses.
Marco turned over, lying on his back, fully exposed. Rafael's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight before him. Marco's body was nothing short of a masterpiece; every muscle perfectly sculpted, forming a defined "V" shape that led down to the waistband of his shorts.
The hard lines of his abs, the cut of his obliques, and the tantalizing dip that disappeared beneath the fabric all combined to create an image that made Rafael's heart race even faster.
He was momentarily stunned, unsure where to even begin. His eyes traced the path from Marco's broad shoulders, down the ridges of his chest, over the hard planes of his abdomen, and finally to that perfect "V" shape that was impossible to ignore.
Forcing himself to focus, Rafael took a deep breath and reached for the massage oil. He poured a small amount into his hands, warming it between his palms as he tried to steady his nerves. His hands shook slightly as he placed them on Marco's chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his fingertips.
As he began to work the oil into Marco's skin, moving his hands in slow, deliberate circles, Rafael's mind was a battlefield. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to remain professional, to keep his thoughts in check, but it was nearly impossible with the way Marco's body reacted to his touch.
Marco let out a low, appreciative moan as Rafael's hands moved over his chest and down to his abs. The sound sent a shiver down Rafael's spine, making his pulse quicken.
He bit his lip, trying to suppress the urge to do more than just massage. The way Marco's muscles flexed under his hands, the warmth of his skin, the intoxicating scent of the massage oil; it was all too much.
Rafael had to remind himself repeatedly to stay focused, to maintain control. But as Marco moaned again, a deeper, more satisfied sound, Rafael found it harder and harder to resist the pull.
His hands moved lower, skimming over the taut skin of Marco's lower abdomen, just above the waistband of his shorts. Every touch was a test of his willpower, and with each passing moment, that willpower was crumbling.
Finally, he was done. How did he manage? He focused on the most boring thing he could think of an adult straight porn he had once watched that had left him completely disinterested. Thinking about that helped him block out everything else, focusing solely on the task at hand.
If it were left to him, he would have pounced on Marco, especially after noticing the slight bulge in his shorts. It wasn't a surprise—others he had massaged had reacted the same way. But this was different. This was Marco.
Rafael finally broke the rhythm he had been maintaining, allowing himself to breathe as he looked over at Marco. The Mafia lord was spent, his body completely relaxed.
"Don Marco," Rafael muttered, tapping him gently as he bent closer. He moved his hand to Marco's face, tapping him softly. "Don?"
No response. That's when Rafael realized Marco had fallen asleep.
"My massage is a medicine for others, but for me… it's pure torture," Rafael sighed as he watched Marco sleep.