My Turn To Take Care Of You

Adira Allure waits in the apartment when Kayla Paige walks through the door. They swap small talk and it slips out that Kayla spent the day rubbing strangers' muscles and now her own hands ache. Adira grins and says she knows the cure—her own hands on Kayla's. Why not? Kayla always helps her for free. This feels like a fair trade. She takes Kayla's wrists, thumbs pressing slow circles into each palm. Kayla sighs. The tight knots melt, yet heat replaces them. Adira lets the touch slide higher, sliding palms along wrists, tracing forearms to the bend of each elbow. Fingertips drag across soft skin. She drifts closer, shoulders brushing, breath warming Kayla's neck. The massage deepens on Kayla's arms and then climbs higher until Adira cups bare shoulders, rubbing until muscle goes soft. Kayla leans back into those hands, eyes half-closed. Adira's voice dips low. She admits the touch has always been about more than sore knuckles—she has a crush she's hidden behind simple friendship. Kayla stiffens, eyes flashing open. Surprise dances there for a breath, then shifts into hunger. She confesses the same longing kept quiet for months. Both women laugh once, shaky and relieved, and the laugh dies in a rough kiss. Hands roam freely now, the earlier aches forgotten as they explore skin they both craved but never claimed.