Work Text:
It was a simple offer, one that Yi sang decided to take.
His back was killing him, after all those missions to clean up the alleys for extra fuel for the bus and nonstop grinding encouraged by their manager. Yes, they were practically prisoners to the corporation, but his sciatica was only human.
The massage started inocous enough with soft taps starting at his neck and shoulders. Going up and down the curve of his upper back as Meursault used the heels of his hands to apply pressure with precision. They hit firmly on the skin and traced the path from the very start of his nape down to the last vertebrae of his cervical region.
Yi sang was pleasantly surprised by the mindful technique of Meursault. The way he alternated the movements and shape of his hands to hit the areas with the perfect amount of force, had Yi sang slowly melting into the pleasure of warmth blossoming a top of sore muscles.
The small tingling of pain of his neck became instead soft havens of muted silence. It no longer hurt as Meursault firmly pushed his head into the right positions to allow him better access to the muscles of his neck. Small grunts of pleasure escaped his mouth, barely able to contain them, as his Neck's muscles felt heavenly.
He didn't know exactly when he changed positions, but he found himself laying down the bus seats face down. He crossed his arms below his head so he could rest it on them as the mindful taps of his coworker morphed into long strokes going up and down his back.
Yi sang was wondering if he should maybe remove his shirt, when the hands shifted movements. Landing firmly open palm on his trapezius muscle, Yi sang almost squeaked, taken by suprise. Meursault had suddenly, but quickly, rolled up Yi sang's shirt to uncover his back. Yi sang reeleed his head back to protest, but words die in his throat when his naked skin came in contact with Meursault's bare hands.
His touch felt completely different when he wasnt wearing his gauntlets.
The warmth of his hands seeped into Yi sang’s deltoids and lates. The mindfulness of his movements clearer as his hands went up and down his dorsis muscles. Making circles and curves on his exposed skin as if he was a zen garded to be shaped by an expert.
Yi sang feels a sense of shame mixed with unrepentant satisfaction. His mind is busier as well, for some reason overfocusing on picturing how Meursault looks with his sleeves rolled up right now.
The hands push deeper into the muscle as Meursault increases the strenght of his movements, his fingers increasing the intensity with which they kneed the muscles underneath the skin. Yi sang’s thoughts are halted as his brain is consumed by the need to groan and melt into the man's care.
Meursault's fingers sink into his flesh, curling the fingerpads tight enough so they can perceive the deeper structures underneath the first layers of muscle. They trace the romboids behind the shoulder blades one strand by strand until they reach scapular muscles that go to the cervical, shifting courses naturally like a leaf in a river.
Yi sang can barely restrain himself as little sounds slip away from him as his coworker makes quick work of each rotator of his shoulders. He even moaned full heartedly when Meursault quickly pulled back, only to change techniques and then sink his elbow onto his back to start tracing Yi sang’s spinal muscles.
The sting of pain is almost present as he firmly traces his path over Yi sang's back. Provoking him to jump slightly with each dig of his elbow onto the tender fibers of his back.
When he is done, he comes back to tending his shoulders and neck muscles, as they are kneaded nicely one more time.
Yi sang's lower back muscles receive a similar massage, as Meursault shifts techniques between elbow and hand, making sure to trace his cerratus muscles as if he was a novice artist trying to commit to memory the shape of the aforementioned.
After working them all, Meursault keeps making long swedish strokes that make Yi sang sensitive and keenly aware of the warmth emanating from his flesh. Truly, this man knew what he was doing.
Meursault pulls down slowly Yi sang’s shirt. Tucking in the white fabric and smoothing the wrinkles as if he was done ironing a shirt. Yi sang though he was done, when his coworker continued doing his long mindful strokes. Following the natural curves of Yi sang’s body with no sense of urgency.
Yi sang was sure, he would end up falling asleep when Meursault suddenly grabbed him by the hips, applying a firm pressure on them. He flinches at the sudden contact and can't stop himself from shivering when Meursault applies pressure, but just as it came, it's gone the next moment.
Yi sang tried his hardest to convince himself he was not... disappointed by the now gone touch. That was an innapropiate thought to have about his coworker. Even if a flicker of something sparkled for a second in the depths of his navel.
But he doesn't get to be disappointed long enough, because Meursault suddenly puts a considerable preassure on the center of his scapular bones. Yi sang is puzzles by this, trying to figure out what he is about to do.
'Please breath in' Meursault positions his hands in a triangle shape above the spine. Yi sang panics. He gasps, trying to tell Meursault to wait.
'Now'
Meursault presses his hands down, a loud crack could be heard. Yi sang makes a load moan, a mix between a yelp and a whine
Meursault finishes the session by repeating the same movement two more times as he descends down Yi sang's spine. Smaller but audible cracks that leave Yi sang feeling boneless as if his whole body was suddenly filled with static.
'This should be a good corrective to help spine decompresion'
Yi sang is drooling on the seat, a string of saliva hanging from his mouth as he is consumed by both the pleasure of the so needed back tension being released and as well the slow realization he couldn't even feel his lower limbs. Meursault continued the last steps of his work, kneading his body one last time as Yi sang laid there uselessly, spouting undignified sounds and moans.
Meursault may have overdone it.