Chapter Text
It started with a flyer on his way home from work one day. Posted up in the window of a local coffee shop he frequented was the “Art of Touch Massage Parlor” advertising new client specials and contact information with eye-catching red and black designs. It was right there in Shinjuku so it wasn’t too far out of the way either. Iwai wasn’t exactly the best at prioritizing self-care other than basic hygiene and always thought of places like these as frivolous and unnecessary but he was also long overdue for some R&R.
He put off making an appointment for a couple weeks until he saw that the flyer was still up every time he passed by the coffee shop as if it was taunting him to act. Curious, he finally pulled out his phone to look up the massage parlor online and saw that it had outstanding reviews as well as decent prices. Taking note of the business hours listed and seeing that it was about 30 minutes before their facilities closed for the day he rang up the number and set his first appointment. There were a few different tiers for services and he figured if he was going to spend money on something like this he might as well select the best package.
He was assigned to Akira Kurusu who happened to be the owner and lead practitioner. When he arrived for his first appointment he was introduced to Akira who had tousled dark hair and fashionable rimmed glasses. He seemed to be about in his early 20s, which Iwai found impressive for running his own business. As a business owner himself he was already intrigued. And after his first session with Akira he quickly secured another appointment for the next week.
-
Iwai was interesting. Throughout his practice Akira had met a lot of different kinds of people from all walks of life which was what he enjoyed most about his line of work. Some clients were quiet during their sessions and some were fairly chatty, but overall pleasant. He was surprised when he saw Iwai’s tattoos, knowing that they were of the same kind worn by the yakuza. They tended to be pretty secretive about where they chose to do business but Iwai was the first client he had who was open about his shady past. Iwai had explained that he had left his clan more than a decade ago and didn’t really seem to be bothered by Akira knowing any of this.
They ended up building a steady rapport with each other over several more sessions and Iwai quickly grew to be his favorite client as well as one of his most frequent patrons. However, Akira was growing fond of Iwai in more ways than one. He was incredibly attractive; gruff, masculine, physically fit, and his voice made him feel like warm honey ran through his veins. Not only that but he was kind and considerate and had his own business as well. He grew to respect him a lot. The tattoos were a nice bonus too. He was older, but that wasn’t something that dissuaded his interest in the slightest. In fact, it may have even made him more appealing.
Although it wasn’t advertised publicly, they did offer services in more of a sexual nature if the client so desired and the masseuse felt comfortable performing them. Akira had worked on a number of clients he found physically attractive but nothing ever went beyond what the client came for. But this time was different. He didn’t want to scare Iwai away, but also couldn’t stop thinking about those tattooed muscles and how his voice would sound when receiving a handjob. Maybe it was unprofessional, but Iwai checked all his boxes and then some. It was worth a shot at the very least.
-
Towards the end of his next session (which was maybe the fourth or fifth time, Iwai had lost count at this point) Akira decided he would let Iwai in on what else he could offer.
“I’m not obligated to ask, but I wanted to know if you might be interested in some… additional services…” Akira said, pressing circles into Iwai’s shoulders with his thumbs.
“Oh? Like what?” the older man asked, the implications completely lost on him.
Akira’s lips curved into a smile. “If you’re up for it…” he started, running his thumbs down between his shoulder blades and towards his lower back. “You can request a special massage… if you so desire.”
Iwai felt his face heat up. “…Whaddya mean?”
Akira smoothed his oiled hands out to his sides, gliding them slowly up along his oblique muscles. “If you’d like to achieve sexual release, I can provide that for you.”
Iwai went silent.
“No pressure of course. It falls under an extended massage on the menu to respect your privacy so all you have to do is let me know what you’d prefer,” Akira explained, leaning in closer as his hands reached his shoulders again.
“Although I should have you know…” he started. “I’m quite good at it,” he breathed near the shell of his ear, causing goosebumps to prickle on the back of his neck.
He then pulled his hands off of him and wiped them dry with a clean towel. “That’s it for today, see you next time Iwai,” he said, looking back with that charming-as-ever smile before exiting the room.
The suggestion tormented Iwai for the next week.
-
At this point Iwai had been regularly seeing Akira every Friday and until now it had been a simple transaction with the benefits of Iwai’s relaxation and Akira’s company. But ever since he let him know about the additional services he could offer his conscience fought with itself causing sleepless nights and the questioning of his own morality. Shit. Did he accidentally sign up to one of those shady massage parlors like the ones in the red light district? Whether or not that was the case, Akira was obviously skilled with his hands which is what kept him coming back for more. He also noticed a significant improvement in his posture and overall mood. Even his customers noticed a change in his demeanor. Was it really such a bad thing to continue seeing him?
Akira was also very attractive, and maybe under different circumstances he’d be willing to at least take him on a date first, but it was never his intention to coerce him into doing sexual favors for him regardless of how much he was spending. The mere thought of it made him feel like a total scumbag. That had been a part of himself that he locked up and buried long ago. He was an honest man now with a business and a kid. He could never allow himself to in good conscience take part in such a thing. Absolutely not.
-
Today was his next appointment and he laid chest-down on the same massage table he laid on many times before with a towel over his waist, pensively waiting for Akira to enter once he buzzed that was ready. He heard the door open and Akira walk over, opening a bottle of oil to start working on his back as per usual.
“So… I noticed you requested an extended massage today. Were you wanting the standard full body or… something else…?” Akira asked, grinning as if he already knew the answer. Were masseuses supposed to be this flirty? Or was it just his mind playing tricks on him?
As Akira’s hands began to knead his shoulders he found himself already starting to chicken out. This was such a bad idea. Just say you wanted the PG massage and leave with your dignity still in tact, he thought to himself, conflicted.
Akira laughed softly. “It’s OK if you don’t wanna take the plunge just yet, I won’t do anything you aren’t ready for,” trailing his fingers down his spine. Was he teasing him? Or just being polite? Fuck, I can’t tell anymore…
Akira performed his usual ministrations but something about them felt different. They were slower and more deliberate, at least he swore it seemed like they were. He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to how Akira’s talented fingers would feel on other areas of his body, and before he knew it he was starting to get hard. Fuck.
Luckily he was laying on his front so Akira couldn’t see the massive hard-on he was hiding between himself and the massage table.
Akira hummed playfully in thought. “You’re a lot more tense than usual today Iwai,” he said, palming his oiled hand over his neck and rubbing out the tension. The deliberate up-and-down squeezing motion translated to something else in his brain and he found himself starting to squirm as he became uncomfortably hard.
His current state wasn’t lost on Akira of course so he thought he’d help make things easier for him. “If it gives you any peace of mind… I can give you a blindfold and I won’t talk so that you can just focus on feeling good,” he said in an attempt to further persuade him.
Maybe that would help… Iwai thought, sighing before throwing away his last shred of resistance. It had been a while since he had a good wank anyway, clearly, and what better time than now to take care of it while he was paying a cute guy he may or may not have developed a slight crush on to get him off.
“Yeah… OK, let’s do it,” Iwai replied, with a bit more decisiveness in his voice this time.
Akira wore a pleased grin as he turned around to retrieve an eye mask and some additional oils. He let Iwai slip the eye mask on and told him to turn over only when he was ready to while he pressed into his back muscles to help him relax.
After a few minutes of psyching himself up Iwai let him know that he was ready and he rolled over onto his back, his erection standing proud beneath the small towel that covered his waist.
Akira bit his lip to prevent himself from making any kind of sound that would give him away and grabbed onto the edge of the towel to gradually pull it down, uncovering what he would consider to be one of the most magnificent cocks he’d ever laid eyes on. His mouth even started to water at the sight.
Noticing that Iwai was still tense and probably somewhat nervous he began by pouring oil into his hands and working over his shoulders and chest. He rubbed out any residual tension in his arms, subsequently feeling out the curve of his well-defined biceps. It really wasn’t fair for a man to be this hot.
Moving on to his pecs, he eased the muscles with a firm hand, fingertips brushing over his nipples for added stimulation. Seeing that Iwai was starting to let his guard down, his hands then moved down to his groin, thumbing around the skin near the base of his cock and up to his abdomen with tantalizing motions. He marveled in how his cock twitched in interest, running his nails against the taught skin of his abdomen and watching as his muscles rippled in their wake.
Glancing up to check on him, Iwai’s mouth was partially open and his breathing was becoming more irregular. Akira grinned with satisfaction, continuing to watch his face as one of his hands moved up to just barely brush over the tip of his reddened cock with his palm, causing Iwai to suck a sharp breath in.
Wetting his lips, Akira proceeded by holding a bottle of warmed oil over the tip of his length, squeezing it out and allowing it to pool messily onto the head and slowly drip down along the shaft. Iwai’s chest rose and fell more prominently now and his jaw was clenched in an effort to remain patient. There was of course a method to all this teasing and Akira was confident that Iwai was going to enjoy every last second of it based on his body language.
Setting the bottle of oil down, Akira flattened his palm against the underside of his cock, pressing it flush against his abdomen and rubbing along it with both hands. Iwai let out an unexpected moan which surprised even Akira. He was definitely pent up. Oh, this was going to be fun.
Taking a quiet breath in, Akira smoothed one hand down to the base and stroked one of the bulging veins with the pad of his thumb while the other rolled over the head with his palm, the oil making it easy to maneuver his hand. Iwai’s hands made fists at his sides and his hips rolled up into Akira’s hands, silently begging for more. Akira wanted so badly to speak, to tell him how amazing his cock was and how much he wanted him to slap him in the face with it before gagging himself on it but he didn’t want to take Iwai out of it or worse, make him feel uncomfortable and never come back. This was already more than he could have asked for.
Taking it up a notch, Akira let go and squeezed more oil into his palm before covering the top half of Iwai’s cock with it and pumping it in earnest, obscene squelching noises filling the small room. Iwai hissed and clutched at the material of the massage table, the lower half of his body moving on its own accord as Akira sent wave after wave of pleasure through him. Before he could get too close to climaxing, Akira withdrew his hand and ran his nails along his hips and groin, easing him back down.
“Holy fuck…” Iwai gritted out, tilting his head back and panting with euphoria. Akira bit his lip to hold back a moan, having gotten himself rather worked up just from listening to him. His hand returned to his slick and throbbing cock, loosely dragging his fingertips up and down along the rigid flesh, occasionally using the blunt edge of his nails to tease him.
Iwai growled and rolled his hips up repeatedly, his muscles flexing with the intense need for release. Akira was starting to lose his grip on his own reality, eyes glazed and lips parted with hushed, wanton breaths. His mind hurdled straight to wondering what it would feel like to have those hips driving into him while he rode him right then and there. Tuck that idea away for later when you’re at home in bed, he thought to himself. Right now, he had a job to finish.
Using one hand to carefully cradle his balls, he used his other hand to press the pad of his thumb against the slit at the head, making small, tight circles with the precum that gathered there before widening the circle and enveloping him with his whole hand, pumping him slowly but firmly from the base to the tip.
Iwai choked out a ragged moan, his hips moving against Akira’s hands as if he no longer had control of them. The dark-haired boy’s eyes flicked up to Iwai’s face, overcome with the urge to take him into his mouth and finish him with his cheeks and tongue, but holding back for his own sake.
His fist twisted over him with a repeated motion and that was what sent him over the edge, coming in milky white ropes onto Akira’s hand and his own chest. Akira watched with the most want he’d ever felt in his life, easing him through it with gentle strokes and burning into his memory how his cum felt sliding between his fingers. He wanted to lick it all off and then ask for more.
Iwai panted harshly as his body settled back down, his muscles twitching with aftershocks. Akira slowly lifted his sticky hand off and wiped it clean before grabbing another towel to clear the residual fog from his glasses. An awkward silence fell between them which made Iwai feel a bit uneasy since Akira was usually quite talkative during their sessions. He could feel Akira wiping him clean with a warm, wet towel but didn’t dare remove the eyemask just yet. He then placed a fresh towel back over his waist, smoothing it out neatly.
Akira quietly cleared his throat before turning on his heels to grasp the door handle. “See you next time,” he managed to blurt out, utterly devoid of his usual poise and charisma, and exited the room. As he shut the door behind him he ran his hand through his hair, letting out a deep and shaky breath. He then made a beeline straight to the break room and stuck his face in the freezer for a few minutes.
-
“What’s going on with Akira?” a tall, fair-skinned man with dark blue hair asked, looking in the direction that Akira had made a swift escape towards.
A shorter blonde woman chuckled, patting him on the shoulder in consolation. “Oh Yusuke. You can’t see it? That guy’s been coming here for weeks just to see Akira. He totally has the hots for him. And vice versa,” she said, winking to emphasize her point.
“…How can you be certain? Akira is the most skilled at what he does after all,” Yusuke replied.
The door to the room Akira had left opened and out walked Iwai, looking flushed.
“…Oh, excuse me,” he said, walking around them.
“Come again~!” Ann lilted as he made it to the end of hallway, causing him to flinch and feel a permeating sense of shame.
Yeah. He could definitely never come back here again.
At least, that’s what he thought until he found himself thinking about their last session every night for the next week. Thinking about those adept hands working him like it was his god-given gift to the world. He was positive his own hands would never yield the same results (he had tried), let alone anyone else. But he’d be lying to himself if he said it was just the handjobs he was interested in. He wanted more. More of Akira.
He was so screwed.