Toronto Fire

"It's open!" I shouted, not lifting my head from the pillow. I heard the door shut and a few heavy steps before the bed shifted with a soft groan.
"Do you always leave the door unlocked?"
I opened one eye to Freddie on his side next to me, his head propped up on his fist. His lips were twisted into a tight grin and I couldn't help but return the gesture. "I thought you were Jack. I had a 4:00 appointment."
"Jack?"
"My masseuse."
I watched his eyes trail down the length of my body and back up, lingering on the skin I left exposed. Short pajama shorts and a thin tank top pulled taut over my curves. His hand reached out, one finger running over my thigh, before taking in a deep breath.
"You need a massage? You could've called me."
I raised an eyebrow, "Freddie, it's been a long time. You don't know my body like you used to."
A look of excitement crossed his face, just a brief moment where I saw his piqued interest, before he donned his poker face again. Eyebrows set in a hard line, he pushed off of the bed and sauntered around to stand at my feet. I shivered as he ran a finger over the tips of my toes.
"You sure about that?"

He knelt on the mattress, leaning forward to pull my leg up to his chest. He began to knead the ball of my foot with strong hands. I cooed, the relief instantaneous and euphoric.

"Does that feel good, love?"

A quick nod and he pulled me closer, lifting my leg up to rest on his shoulder. His hands found my calf muscle and I winced as he rubbed harshly. My legs had been so sore, so tense, and I melted under his touch. He turned his head to kiss my ankle, another smirk before another kiss.

He dropped to his knees and pulled me closer still, my knees bending as his hands danced over my hamstrings. Caressing the bottom of my ass with the tips of his fingers before moving to my thighs, I gasped as his head fell between my legs.

"Fre- Freddie?" My voice was shaky and I grabbed a handful of the comforter, squeezing my eyes shut as he pulled away.

"Hmm, yes love?"

I didn't answer him, unable to form a thought with his thumb tracing the crotch of my shorts. Feather-light pressure over my clit sent a shot up my spine.

"Do you want me to stop?" His lips were pink to match the blush on his cheeks and I reached out to brush the stubble on his chin. He leaned into my palm, eyes not leaving mine as he traced the waistband of my shorts. "What?"

"Don't stop," I shook my head and he smirked, "Just- did you lock the door?"

Notes