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“Sam? Are you okay?” I reached toward him, my palms settling on his waist.
“There’s only one place to go from here…” Sam murmured. “Things can literally only get worse from this moment. We’re hitting our peak right now—”
“Nope. Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what? Be logical about what’s happening?”
“Don’t ruin it by trying to see the future,” I corrected. “Don’t turn us into a nightmare because you don’t want to get your hopes up about the dream of it all.”
“Easy for you to say.” Sam sighed. “I’ve never had anything this good, Damon—”
“Me neither,” I interrupted him again, a thought suddenly popping into my head. “Hey, why don’t you go lie down in the bedroom?”
“I don’t know if I’m really in the mood for that right now—”
“It’s not sex.” I shook my head. “I just want you to go lie down, okay? I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”
“Fine.” Sam started to head toward the bedroom, his footsteps heavy and filled with lead. When he’d finally turned into the room, I headed down the hall myself, not stopping until I reached the sauna room. Once there, I opened the closet, quickly locating massage oils before I brought them into the bedroom.
By the time I was standing at the foot of the bed, Sam was already lying on his stomach, a defeated air around him. I didn’t say a word as I straddled him from behind, letting my knees sink onto the mattress on either side of his waist. I poured some of the massage oil into my palm, warming it between my hands before I slid them up the back of Sam’s shirt.
“Fuck. That feels good…” Sam hummed, as I started to massage his skin, working up to his shoulders and the back of his neck.
“That’s the point.” I grinned, still working my fingers against him. “I wanted to do something to help you relax. You seemed like you really needed it.”
“You’re not wrong,” Sam admitted underneath me. “Sorry for being such a headcase, by the way. I know you’ve seen me spiral before, but—”
“You don’t need to apologize for spiraling, Sam. You never need to apologize for how you’re feeling,” I replied. “You’re just a person. And there’s nothing wrong with expressing yourself. The only thing I ask is that you talk to me about it, okay? I want to be there for you when you’re spiraling. Don’t try to keep it to yourself. Deal?”
“Deal.” Sam went quiet for a moment, as I continued massaging the tight knots in his shoulders. A minute or two later he spoke again. “Where’d you learn how to massage people?”
“I didn’t.” I laughed as I spoke. “Not professionally, anyway. It’s more like I learned a bunch of hodge-podge techniques over the years, how-to videos, friends and family asking me to work out a knot in their leg or back. And voila, here we are.”
“Well, please be sure to tell all of your friends and family thank you, since they’ve turned you into quite the masseuse.”
“I’ll be sure to let them know. Maybe in a Christmas card?”
“A Christmas card would be preferable, yes,” Sam joked, his laughter vibrating through him and into my fingertips. “Oh, my God. Can you imagine me actually meeting your family?”
“Of course, I can. They’d love you, Sam.”
“Really? Why?”
“Because you’re smart. And kind. And curious. And passionate,” I started. “Not to mention that you’re beautiful, which doesn’t really matter to them, but I don’t think being beautiful has ever hurt anyone in the history of ever.”
“I think my family would like you, too.” Sam hummed. “But mostly because you’re so resourceful. They’d just be happy that I had someone in my life who’d be able to keep me alive if I was ever stranded in the woods. Or stranded downtown at 2AM.”
“Does your family take holidays seriously? As in, are they going to be upset if I try to keep you in Roanoke for Thanksgiving?”
“Please keep me in Roanoke for Thanksgiving,” Sam pleaded. “My mom’s been going through this health kick. I’m pretty sure she’s going to make tofu-turkey for the main entrée this year and I don’t know if I’ll be able to pretend that it’s better than real turkey.”
“I mean, I’ve heard good things about tofu—”
“But not about tofu turkey, and I’m pretty sure there’s a reason for that.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle as my hands moved down Sam’s body, now massaging his lower back. “In that case, I’ll keep you in Roanoke for Thanksgiving. But that means we’ll probably be doing Christmas in Atlanta?”
“Two Christmases. One with my family, and then, Queer Christmas.”
