It started innocently.
Ren had been hunched over his laptop editing a pitch deck for so long that his spine was practically shaped like a shrimp.
When he stood up and groaned, Noa raised an eyebrow. "Old man noises already?"
He rubbed his neck, wincing. "I've been in the same position for five hours."
"Sounds like a *you* problem."
"I was doing *our* work."
She sighed, stood, and walked over. "Turn around."
"What?"
"Let me fix your neck."
He hesitated. "You know how to do that?"
She rolled her eyes. "I binge-watched a Thai massage tutorial last week."
"…Why?"
"Don't question my YouTube habits. Now sit."
---
He sat cross-legged on the floor.
She got on the couch behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders.
And everything changed.
Her fingers were *warm.* Surprisingly strong. Somehow confident and clueless at the same time.
He groaned.
A real, guttural, betrayed-his-soul kind of groan.
She froze.
"…Did you just moan?"
"No."
"You *definitely* moaned."
"It was a neck reaction."
"I've never heard a neck sound like that."
She pressed again, thumbs digging in.
He groaned louder.
"REN."
"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? IT FEELS AMAZING."
---
Then she got ambitious.
"Lean forward," she instructed.
He did.
Then she climbed off the couch.
And sat on his lower back.
Like, full straddle.
"Um," he said.
"Shut up. This is how they do it in the video."
"This is how they do it in my *dreams*."
She slapped the back of his head.
Then started massaging again.
Ren's soul left his body.
---
She pressed into a tight spot on his upper spine.
His head dropped forward. A moan escaped so indecent that she almost fell off him.
"Was that… involuntary?" she asked.
"I'm not sure I'm alive anymore."
Noa leaned forward slightly, her chest pressing into his back. "Do you want me to stop?"
He made a helpless noise.
"…I'll take that as a no," she muttered.
---
They stayed in that bizarre, suggestive position for a solid five minutes.
Then the unthinkable happened.
Her foot slipped.
She tipped forward.
Her entire weight landed on him.
And they toppled—face-first onto the carpet.
Now Noa was sprawled across Ren's back, breathing into his neck.
"You're crushing my lungs," he said, muffled.
"You broke my elbow with your spine."
"You were straddling me like a horse!"
"You *moaned* like I summoned a ghost!"
They both burst out laughing—hard.
But neither moved.
---
Eventually, Noa rolled off and lay beside him, both panting from laughter.
"Let's never do that again," she said.
"I need new pants," he muttered.
She snorted. "Why?"
"Your thighs just awakened something in me."
"Too much information."
"You *asked!*"
She turned her head. "Did it help?"
"My neck?"
"Yeah."
"Surprisingly, yes."
"No need to thank me."
"I'll thank you with an ice pack for your elbow."
"And a therapist for your noises."
---
That night, as they brushed teeth in silence, Noa glanced over.
"You know," she said. "Most people would've just used a massage gun."
Ren spat into the sink. "But then I wouldn't get to moan in your lap."
She stared.
He froze.
"I mean—figuratively—"
"Goodnight, Ren."
She disappeared into her room.
Ren stared at his reflection.
Then whispered to himself:
"…Why does everything sound like foreplay now?"