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“Take off your clothes,” Michael hisses in Alex’s ear from behind him at the computer chair, “You’ve worked all morning and you’re so tense,” Michael continues, giving Alex’s shoulders a squeeze. “I’m going to give you a massage.”
“Are you?” Alex says, with only mediocre enthusiasm for his lack of focus on Michael’s words, torn between his fading attention to the code on his screen and the comfortable pressure Michael is applying to his stiff shoulders.
“I bought massage oil…” Michael practically sings.
“You did?” Alex asks with rather more interest, twisting around to look up at Michael behind him.
He’s greeted by a broad smile. “I did.”
~~~~~
“So… what’s all this about?” Alex asks once he’s settled on his stomach on their bed, Michael’s alien-warm hands beginning to spread a soothing smelling oil over his bare back.
“Relax,” Michael says, seductively slowly, hoping to stall the wheels turning in Alex’s mind.
“I mean… I woke up to breakfast in bed… now this massage. Not that I’m complaining.”
Michael shrugs, though Alex can’t see him. “It’s just– lets call it… Alex Manes Appreciation Day,” Michael says, sounding rather pleased with his own answer.
Alex laughs, but it quickly smooths into a satisfied hum as Michael begins to work out the knots in his lower back.
“Actually…” Alex says, already sounding sleepy, “I think I’d like a whole week of this.”
“That could be arranged…” Michael says slyly, leaning over to whisper in Alex’s ear, though admittedly waylaid by his inability to resist a nibble on the lobe while he’s there. “A whole week… a whole year… a whole lifetime…”
Marry me.
Michael swallows hard against the two words that almost slip out. Nope, not now. Not yet. He’s bought frickin’ rose petals for those words.
Those words are for tonight.