This short piece is the living proof what a display of massage oil in the Body
Shop can do to a sick mind like mine. :-) When I sent it to Cassiel (aka Evil
Mastermind), whom I had already been BETA reading for at that time, we came to
the conclusion that heck, if the boys were already sharing both our heads, we
might as well write the bloody thing together. So yes, this IS an official part
of the "Reyn" storyline, in case you were wondering. ;-) Ask Evil Mastermind
<cassiel@crysania.com> for the rest of it if you haven't read it.

No warnings - no yaoi, no lemon, no lime, no oranges. Lots of massage oil. Two
good-looking boys. A healthy dose of shounen ai. Skin exposure. If that scares
you, don't read on.

Chronologically, this is set a few weeks maximum before Shurik's birthday, not
long before part 8 of "Reyn". Enjoy, and remember - my favorite readers are the
ones that send comments! ;-)

Sasha aka Evil Henchwoman
<olli2a01@uni-trier.de>

Reyn Interlude
-------------

Shurik fiddled with the apartment keys in his left hand while balancing a paper
bag of groceries on his right hip. Tavir had finally been allowed to toss his
crutches aside and walk on his own the other week, but shopping trips were
still out of the question. He'd tried it once, insisting he was capable of
handling himself. Shurik had been greeted that evening by an assortment of
apples, oranges and tomatoes neatly spread out on the stairs and a cursing,
limping Tavir who had made his way down three stories to pick them up again.

Too bad the house did not have an elevator.

He had expected Tavir to be showing off his cooking skills by now, but the tiny
kitchen was not yet occupied. Shurik dropped the bag on the counter and took a
peek inside the living/sleeping/eating room of their humble home. The other boy
was sprawled on the sofa in a rather odd position, listlessly zapping through
the channels.
"Hi there. Not hungry?" he asked.
"Yeah, sure." Tavir managed a smile.
"Then get your butt off the couch and do your chores", Shurik suggested with a
grin. "You know how it works... I provide the financial share, you sustain our
stomachs. Good old-fashioned system."
Shurik was wise enough to duck before a deadly flying cushion could take him
out. Tavir groaned and got up stiffly. He winced slightly as he stretched and
tested his joints. Shurik's face took on a concerned look.
"Has your knee gotten worse again?"
"No, it's not that. My back is killing me. First it was those damned crutches
digging into my arms. And since I only strain one of my legs... I think I've
got a cramp in my shoulder." Tavir cursed under his breath and rubbed his neck,
obviously annoyed by it all.

Shurik seemed to be considering something very thoroughly for a moment. Then he
nodded to himself. What the heck. At least this time, he would be able to help
him with his pain.

"Why don't you lie down again, Tavir? I'll be right back."
Tavir complied and watched Shurik disappear into the bathroom. The sound of
running water. He came back out with a small bottle of lotion in his hand.
Tavir thought he'd briefly caught a determined look on his face, as if he was
walking towards his utter doom. <Whatever for?> he wondered.
Shurik's weight at his side tilted the soft cushions as he joined him on the
couch.
"Take off your shirt." Shurik was surprised at how casual he had managed to
make that sound. He helped him slip it off his arms and brushed that long,
auburn ponytail aside. He could not help but hold his breath. <Gosh, how soft
and silky it feels...> It ran through his fingers like water.
Shurik instantly regretted his decision at the sight of Tavir's lean-muscled
back in full sight for once. He hoped he'd survive this with his dignity
intact.
<Get your mind out of the gutter, kid!> he scolded himself. A cold shower would
work wonders right now.
Squeezing his bottom lip between his front teeth, he bent over Tavir and shyly
brought his hands to work.

Tavir felt Shurik's hands on the midst of his back, sliding slowly upwards
until they met the tight-wound knot below his neck. <His hands are warm> he
noticed. It was a nice, comforting feeling. <He must have held them under hot
water first. He knows what he's doing back there...> The hands began stroking
him firmly, then started kneading gently. That felt good. Boy, that felt
heavenly. He closed his eyes and gave in to the feeling. Just then one of the
hands disappeared and was replaced by something icy and wet.
"Whaa...! Hey!" Tavir protested. "You're torturing me, Shur!"
"You... want me to stop then?"
Tavir let his head fall back on the couch again as the lotion was dispersed on
his back and the hands slid on further.
"No. God, no. This feels... wonderful. Don't stop on my account."
<He's enjoying it.> Shurik beamed. Well, he was supposed to, after all. And, he
had to admit, HE was enjoying it, too. A little too much for his own good. The
feeling of those tight, yet amazingly soft muscles under his fingers... Tavir's
skin caressing his palms, the hard knobs of his spine playing against his
hands. He might never be so close to him again, might never feel him like this
ever. What did it matter if his hands explored a little beyond the place it
hurt?
Timidly, he brought his attention to the small of his back, sliding his hands
up and down Tavir's sides, taking his frame in and memorizing him from his ribs
to his shoulder blades.

A soft, low sound vibrated through the body under him. Tavir was... purring?
Well, that was something he'd never heard him doing. And this was HIS work. A
sense of pride joined the motley of feelings swarming inside of him.

He was glad Tavir could not see his face right now. It had grown hot as soon as
he had touched him, and any traffic light surely paled in comparison by now. A
thin film of sweat had formed on his forehead. The combined smell of Tavir, all
of Tavir, and the faint vanilla fragrance from the lotion was enough to make
his head spin. Intoxicating.
Trying to focus on his task got harder by the second. He noticed though that
Tavir had gotten lighter. When he had still be actively playing hockey,
especially when he had been pushing himself so hard towards the end, his
stature had been sturdier and more compact. Now, his body had a softer
appearance due to the lack of training. Not that it mattered to him and his
hormones. On the contrary... it looked agonizingly good on him.
<What have you gotten yourself into, Shurik?>

Somewhere along the line, Tavir had let himself drown in the sensation. He knew
(or he hoped?) this was a gesture out of companionship, but still. He had
missed this. Reyn... Reyn had done this sometimes, after training, and he'd
enjoyed it equally as much. Shurik's hands were smaller and not as fine-boned
as Reyn's, but they felt just as good. His mind was floating. Somehow, he still
missed him. Missed to be touched. Missed the things Reyn had done after this.
The places his hands had gone to when he had been done with his back. He
started humming with the pleasure of the moment, and of good memories. Yes,
those memories were there, too. Of the good times. He shut everything out of
his consciousness but those memories and those gentle hands.

Shurik swallowed. He had lost track of time. How long had he been at this?
Tavir was so still, lying there. The small moans had stopped a while ago. And
Shurik... Shurik was painfully reminded of where he was by that burning feeling
in his chest and further downwards... idiot. Idiot, for even thinking about
this.
He squeezed a small whisper from his dry throat.
"Tavir?"
No answer. Carefully, Shurik bent over his friend and looked at the face half
hidden in the cushions.
Tavir was asleep.
Shurik smiled. He looked so peaceful. He tore his eyes from that sweet,
beautiful face and stood up. Well, so much for dinner. He wasn't hungry anyway.
Or rather, he was. But not for food.
Silently, he draped a blanket over Tavir's sleeping form.
Maybe he'd take that cold shower after all.

Fin
 
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