Reyn Interlude

Note: Chronologically, this is set a few weeks maximum before Shurik's birthday, not long before part 8 of "Reyn" (written by Cassiel).

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. Entoxicating.
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.

Back to Original Fiction