“Anyway,” Zach said, still kneading his lower back. “It won’t matter soon. We’ve agreed we’ll be exclusive after the wedding.”
Tristan opened his eyes. “You’re getting married? When?”
“In three months.”
“My sincere condolences.”
Zach gave a chuckle as he moved to massage Tristan’s legs, skipping his buttocks and thighs. “Are you a commitment-phobe?”
“I just don’t see a point. Long-term relationships are restrictive and boring.”
The hands shifted to his calves, kneading them hard. “Have you ever been in a relationship, little boy?” Zach’s voice practically dripped with condescension.
Tristan kicked him—and then promptly groaned as a jolt of pain shot through his groin.
“If you keep this up, you won’t recover any time soon,” Zach said.
“Says the guy who provoked me,” Tristan grumbled, suppressing the urge to turn his head and stick his tongue out. God, what was it about this guy that brought out the worst in him? He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so on edge and childish.
“Turn onto you back,” Zach said.
Grunting, Tristan did, and Hardaway started massaging his front.
Tristan squirmed a little. He was so used to getting massages that he’d stopped finding them strange and intrusive a long time ago, but for some reason…this time it was different. Zach’s touch was impersonal, his hands gliding over Tristan’s skin with practiced efficiency, but Tristan couldn’t look away from Zach’s hands as they kneaded and stroked the muscles of his arm.
He felt eyes on his face and looked up. Zach was watching him.
As soon as their eyes met, Zach looked away, focusing on the task at hand.
It made Tristan wonder. “What?”
“Nothing,” Zach said gruffly, moving to sit just above Tristan’s head. He placed the heels of his hands just below Tristan’s clavicle. Then he pushed his hands down, palming the pectorals and kneading them.
Tristan watched Zach’s hands glide over his chest, covering his nipples, the palms rubbing against them, again and again. Tristan bit the inside of his cheek, feeling a stirring in his groin. Fuck. This hadn’t happened to him in ages during a massage. He knew it was a pretty normal reaction, and most physios weren’t bothered by it when it happened, but the fact that it was happening with this prick was mortifying. He closed his eyes, thinking of the most disgusting things he could.
“You’ll need a new bed,” Zach said.
Tristan’s eyes flew open. “What? Why?”
“The mattress is far too soft.”
Tristan ground his teeth. Unbelievable. “No one asked your opinion on my mattress. I’ll have you know, I’m very fond of my mattress.”
Zach’s hands—finally—stopped stroking his chest. He moved down, to work on Tristan’s legs. “It’s bad for your spine.”
“My mattress is perfect.”
“No, it isn’t,” Zach said. “It needs to support your body in a neutral position, in which your spine has a nice curvature and your buttocks, shoulders, and head are supported in proper alignment. It’s necessary for your bones to have some resistance. Your mattress is too soft for that.”
“But if the mattress is firm, it will push on those pressure points,” Tristan said.
“Yes, but only if the mattress is too firm. If it’s too soft, like your mattress, those pressure points won’t be properly supported, so your whole body flops back.” Zach pushed him onto his side. “See,” Zach said, laying a hand on his nape. He slowly dragged the hand down Tristan’s spine to his lower back, just above his ass. “Your spine is curved because the mattress sinks under your weight too much. It can cause various issues in the long run. It can worsen…”
Zach was still saying something—lecturing him—but Tristan had trouble focusing. Zach’s hand was resting just above his ass.
“…Do you now understand why you need a new mattress?”
“All right, whatever!” Tristan grumbled, squirming away from Zach’s hand. “All you ever do is criticize me.”
“Ever?” Zach said, his gray eyes flashing with humor. “We met half an hour ago.”
“Precisely. I’ve heard more criticism in half an hour than I’ve heard in half a year.”
“That means you’re just surrounded by suck-ups.” Zach stood up, wiping his hands with a towel. “I’ll choose a new mattress for you. You will be a good boy and sleep on the mattress I order for you.”
For some stupid reason, Tristan’s cock twitched. He tried to ignore it.
“You’re crossing the line,” Tristan said, very, very softly.
Zach smiled. “I don’t think so. It’s the job of the physiotherapist to make sure his patient is in top form. And you’ll find that I take my job very seriously.” He grabbed his bag and headed to the door.
“Any other orders?” Tristan said at his back.
“Don’t do anything stupid just to spite me,” Zach said over his shoulder. “I’ll return tomorrow morning and I expect to find you still in bed.”
“Am I allowed to get up to pee, my lord?”
“Only if you really have to,” Zach said. “I can tell Lydia to buy diapers for you. Baby.”